


I Followed Fires

by EclecticInkling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dragons, M/M, birthday fic, dragons play a pretty important role, exiled Prince Tooru, mysterious ranger Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 66,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticInkling/pseuds/EclecticInkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When the time comes, it will take you to safety. Just look towards the east,” his mother had said. He hoped she was right. He needed all the safety and help he could get if he was going to win back his throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlitcities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/gifts).



> For my best friend and soulmate, Remmi: happy belated birthday and early Christmas! Thank you for all the joy you've brought me, and for all the trust and support you've shown. I'm truly blessed to have met you. I love you, sunbeam <3
> 
> Now with fanart! Courtesy of [Talli](http://hoodoodle.tumblr.com/post/139464273998/for-the-sweetest-dayan-allie-ranger). (Who also drew some more Iwa [here](http://hoodoodle.tumblr.com/post/139602942083/initial-sketches-for-ranger-iwaizumi-based-on))
> 
> Note: there are phrases from a fictional language I created in this chapter. I'll give translations for them in the next chapter, for reasons that will become apparent then. Just to let you all know.
> 
> (Title is from the song "I Followed Fires" by Matthew and the Atlas)

The tile was cold against his bare feet as he slowly crept down the large, empty hallway towards the Queen’s apartments, the sound of his steps lost in the pounding of rain against the windows and roof. Lightning flashed through the glass, briefly filling the hallway in violent, bright light before it disappeared into the angry clap of thunder that shook the windows and walls in its intensity.

Tooru jumped at the noise and shrunk away from the windows, tiny form trembling in the deep darkness.

At six years old, he was still terrified by the storm. Not in the same way as when he was four, or even five, when the noise alone was enough to send him leaping from his four-poster bed and across the castle to his mother’s room, even when the storm wasn’t that bad. No, it was during storms like this, when it set the walls shaking and windows rattling and trees swaying, so bent in the wind they seemed like they might just break in half at any moment, that his heart started racing in fright, images of destruction filling his mind.

Like that servant’s house, which got blown apart. Or the one split in half by a fallen tree. Or the flooding the kitchen aides talked about that swept away people along with possessions. His sleep had been filled with nightmares of rushing water and troubled breathing for weeks afterward.

Tooru tiptoed down the hall like a shadow— small, silent, noticeable only through movement. He was careful not to wake anyone, especially as he passed his father’s rooms, where he took extra care to be as silent as a six-year-old could possibly be, knowing the lecture in store for him if his father learned he was out of bed just because of a thunderstorm.

The thought of that was almost enough to make Tooru turn around and suffer through the storm in his own room. But there was a light beneath his mother’s door, a soft glow calling out through the darkness, and Tooru rushed to it.

He hesitantly knocked against the wood, and then cracked the door open, peering with his large, brown eyes into the sanctuary that was his mother’s room. Large candles sat on the bedside tables and the wide vanity, shining with all their might into the darkness and filling the room with warmth. The curtains were drawn across the windows to block the lightning outside. And on the bed, his mother sat, reading one of the many books which filled the shelves next to the windows, completely at ease.

Calm. Serene. Comforting.

“Mama?” he called. His voice was small in the large room, still frightened and unsure of whether his mother would welcome him or scold him. But all of that anxiety vanished when she looked over and beamed at him.

“I thought you might come,” she answered gently, and held an arm out to him. Tooru ran over to the bed and curled into his mother’s embrace, sighing happily when she began carding her fingers through his hair. “Another nightmare, _dayan_?”

Tooru nodded. “I couldn’t breathe. Everything was so heavy. It was crushing me. Like giant rocks. And it sounded just like thunder.” His hands clutched at the fabric of his mother’s robes. “Is it wrong for me to be scared of the storm?”

“Of course not.”

“Father thinks it is.”

He looked down at his hands, still bunched in the silken robes, and bit his lip. He could still hear his father’s words from the previous week, when a violent thunderstorm had blown in so suddenly that Tooru had nearly shrieked with the first clap of thunder. His father’s glare at that moment had been searing.

_A crown prince frightened by a mere storm. How shameful. How do you expect to lead battles when you can’t even stomach a little bit of thunder? You’re a disgrace. Control yourself._

“Oh, my love,” his mother breathed. Her hand smoothed over his hair, and she tucked him close against her chest, where Tooru could hear her heartbeat. “Don’t let what your father says fool you. Even he is afraid of the thunder.”

“Really?” Tooru asked, surprised. He couldn’t see his father, the fearless, warrior King, being afraid of anything, let alone the thunder.

His mother smiled.

“Many years ago,” she began, her voice low and secretive in the way it always got when she told him old folktales that his father didn’t like, “when dragons still roamed the lands, before you were even born, it was said that a storm was the clashing between two dragons. Their roars were what made the thunder.”

There was another crash outside right as she finished speaking, and, listening closely, Tooru could almost make out the fierce cries of two warring dragons. He could see their claws ripping into each other, and their large wings beating out the wind of the storm, while lightning flashed with every swish of their long, spike-covered tails. They were beautiful in their ferocity, graceful and fluid and dangerous. And Tooru wanted more than anything to see them.

“Mama, were there really dragons?”

“Oh yes, _dayan_. Of all kinds,” his mother confided. “Dragons once filled this land, and flew through all of the skies.”

Her expression grew sad, and Tooru frowned. He knew what happened then, for it was told in stories throughout the kingdom. How the dragons and humans could no longer co-exist, havoc wreaked wherever the dragons appeared, and then his father took the throne and slowly, methodically rid the kingdom of their existence, until there were none left. Tooru had always thought those stories were simply stories, told to make his father appear as a brave and mighty ruler, but maybe Tooru was wrong.

Maybe there had been dragons at one point. Maybe they flew through the air once, completely free. He imagined them, dragons of all sizes and colors nesting in the rocky mountains and open plains. Grey, green, red, white, blue, brown: living out their days in the wilderness until death came upon them, swift and painful. And maybe they did cause the destruction the storytellers told, but Tooru quietly mourned the loss of them.

“Tooru,” his mother whispered. Her fingers fiddled with a chain around her neck— the necklace she always wore day and night, keeping it hidden beneath her dresses where no one else could see. “Will you keep a secret for me? No one else may know. Not even your father.”

He nodded solemnly. “I promise, Mama.”

She smiled at him and kissed the top of his head. Then, carefully, she pulled the necklace from beneath her robes and lifted the chain over her head. She held it up before Tooru, whose eyes locked on to the small pendant hanging at the end. It was curved all around in an oval shape, almost like that of an egg, but barely larger than the size of a coin. There were red and yellow streaks flecked all through the orange crystal, scattered around tiny splotches of pure blue. It reminded him of a fire, only frozen and carved into the oval shape before him. Beautiful and rare.

“It’s a dragon egg,” his mother said with a laugh, seeing his wide-eyed wonder. She placed the chain around his neck and let the pendant drop down his shirt, where it rested smooth and warm against his stomach. “You must keep it safe from all harm, and it will do the same for you.”

“How?”

“When the time comes,” she said, “it will take you to safety. Just look towards the east, and remember this phrase.” She then leaned down, so that only Tooru might be able to hear as she whispered, “ _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol_.”

“ _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol,_ ” he repeated, voice hushed and reverent. The words felt heavy, full of magic, and he had no doubt they would work to protect him if the need ever arose. A language of the oldest breed carried power.

He committed the phrase to memory, and carried both the words and the pendant with him wherever he went, letting their power protect him.

He carried them through the storms, finding courage in their magic to overcome his dark thoughts and sleep peacefully through the night.

He carried them when he grew old enough to be included in his father’s discussions with the council, and when he was put through the vigorous, physical training of a soldier that turned him into an expert swordsman with the lean, hard muscles of a matured man.

He carried them with him when his mother died. Suddenly, as if murdered rather than being carried off by illness.

And he carried them with him when he realized his mother’s death was no accident, and that his own death wouldn’t be either, chased from the castle by his father’s personal guard, all of whom held no mercy in their eyes.

But the pendant worked its magic, and he escaped into the dark forest under its protection. He rode day and night, his horse’s hooves pounding over dirt and sand, never looking back on the birthright that had been stripped from him. And then he slipped into the night, and vanished without a trace.

 

* * *

 

The tavern was nearly empty when they trooped in that night after work, sweaty and loud and covered in dirt.

It was their weekly ritual. As soon as they were let free of the refineries on the last day of the week, come rain or snow, Tooru’s group would all troop down to the local tavern for well earned drinks and a night full of gossip, always sitting at the same table in the back corner of the room with orange lamplight pouring over them, ordering the same drinks, seeing the same regulars pop in for the very same reason that Tooru and his group did. And, as usual, Tooru kept quiet as his friends chattered around him. Kept to himself.

Mai, daughter of the tavern’s owner, quickly passed the drinks around the table, sliding each man his respective favorite. Fresh tea for Moniwa. Gin and tonic for Sasaya. Whiskey for Kamasaki. Warm, strong ale for Futakuchi and Aone. And for Tooru, a glass of ice and a large pitcher of water.

He remembered the others laughing at his choice a year and a half ago, when he first started tagging along after their long work shifts. Tooru played it off at the time as being necessary, having gotten dehydrated from shoveling the raw pig iron into the blasting furnace all day. Really though, Tooru didn’t drink alcohol. Not since the night he had turned eighteen and his own father had chased him from the castle with clear intent to kill. And he would have succeeded if Tooru had filled himself with wine, as he was supposed to.

Tooru figured out later that the wine had most likely been spiked. Meant to knock him completely out, so he’d be easy prey.

He avoided all alcohol since that time, deferring to water as his drink of choice unless the drink was being handmade by himself. And, thankfully, after a week or two the guys had stopped questioning his choice and just let it be. It was simply another part of their ritual now, just like the table they sat at, and the loud cheer as they all held their drinks up to each other, and the bright gleam in Mai’s eyes that spoke of some brand new story she’d heard, straight from the mouths of traveling merchants.

“Word is that Tokonami got completely gutted last week by the King’s guard,” she told them as she wiped her hands with her serving apron. “One of the merchants said the entire town was a wreck. It looked like the guard went through every single building, looking for something.”

A long sigh came from all around the table.

Raids weren’t uncommon news around the kingdom, especially in recent months. There always seemed to be some new information about a city being sacked, or so-called traitors being killed, though Tooru suspected many of them were completely innocent and caught in the crossfire. Tooru’s father was determined to rule with an iron fist and without any possible threats: namely, Tooru. There was no doubt in Tooru’s mind that his father had his guards out there searching for him, or at least for his body, no matter what he had told the kingdom at large.

As far as the kingdom’s citizens were concerned, Prince Tooru was dead— killed in a tragic hunting accident which snapped his neck.

Tooru knew better though. His father knew better.

Kamasaki hummed. “Tokonami, huh? That’s not too far from here.”

“I wonder what they were searching for,” Moniwa mused. He stirred his tea, a pensive look on his face. “Tokonami’s always been a peaceful town. They wouldn’t have the strength to defy the King even if they wanted to.”

“Give them more credit,” Mai chided. “The merchant said it had something to do with a fugitive, or a missing person or something.” The guys all perked up in interest at this. In his seat, Tooru tensed, hand clutched tightly around his glass. “At least that’s what they think. The guards didn’t find anyone though.”

“And why would they? If the King himself is hunting this person down, they’ll damn well make sure they can’t be found,” Futakuchi scoffed. He picked up his ale and took a long swig before slamming it back down, flicking his long bangs from his eyes. “Personally, I hope they’re looking for the prince. At least it’ll mean he’s still out there.”

Tooru’s mouth grew dry. He swallowed thickly as he shrank back into his chair.

To his relief, however, no one even glanced his way, caught up as they were in this new mystery. There were perks to being the silent type, Tooru thought while the rest of their group stared at Futakuchi, and one of those was the ability to remain invisible in situations like this.

Sasaya drummed his fingers lightly against the table. “You know the prince died three years ago. They had a funeral and everything.”

Tooru’s fingers twitched, and he quickly pulled his hands beneath the table where no one else could see. Around his neck, his mother’s necklace grew heavy, feeling almost like a noose, reminding him of the burden and the purpose he’d been carrying all this time. The words he had spoken with his mother, and her promise of protection. But he kept his face completely neutral, hiding any sign or twitch that might reveal his dangerous secret.

“Yeah, but they didn’t show any body, did they? Just his casket. For all we know, he could still be out there, waiting for his chance. He’d be reaching his majority this year, after all,” Futakuchi retorted. His arms were crossed, stubborn, completely set in his ideas, and Tooru had to force his lips together to keep from saying anything while the rest of the group hissed and glared at Futakuchi, trying to silence him.

“Kenji!”

“What?” Futakuchi snapped without remorse. “You can’t tell me the prince wouldn’t be a better ruler than our current one. Didn’t you hear about that whole fiasco with Kakugawa?” He shook his head, leaning against the table. His words were acid as he said, “Complete annihilation. Almost half of the city was killed, just because they were rioting over bread. Great show of benevolence from our righteous King and his new heir.”

Tooru recoiled at the mention of his replacement. Next to him, Moniwa slapped his hand over Futakuchi’s mouth just as the door to the tavern opened, little bell above the door chiming as a hooded man walked in. All of their gazes snapped over to the door in fear, Tooru included. They didn’t need to worry about the rest of the tavern’s regulars, but if the wrong person accidentally heard what Futakuchi was saying, they would all get in trouble, and that wouldn’t bode well for any of them. Especially for Tooru.

This made the atmosphere around them tense, drawn tight with anxiety, until the man entered and lowered his hood.

“Ah, Iwaizumi! Welcome back!” Mai exclaimed, almost in relief.

Tooru relaxed, melting back into his chair, while the others all sighed and let down their guard.

“Long time, no see,” Kamasaki called. His mouth was pulled into a wide grin as he addressed the familiar ranger, who was walking across the tavern to his normal table near the windows. “How’s the weather been for you? Has the snow started piling up in those mountains yet?”

“No worse than usual,” Iwaizumi answered with a shrug.

Mai brought over a glass and a bottle of whiskey. She set them both down at Iwaizumi’s table as he quietly thanked her, passing over a handful of small coins with a gloved hand. He then seemed to settle down to silently relax, letting the earlier conversation die without another word, short and vague, as was typical with him.

Everyone knew Iwaizumi. He was a common figure to see around Dateko during most weekends, when he would venture down from the mountains he apparently inhabited in order to trade and drink and search out jobs to fulfill. It was surprising to Tooru at first, how respected Iwaizumi was around the entire town, because, in his experience, rangers usually weren’t trusted or even liked by the common citizens. They were thought to be too independent, their allegiances unknown and therefore unreliable. But Iwaizumi didn’t appear to fit into this mold.

It only took a few weeks for Tooru to see why.

Like all rangers, Iwaizumi was a man of little words, but he didn’t keep to himself like the others. Not truly. More often than not, Tooru could find him fixing a roof for one of Dateko’s widows, or helping out in the mines, or running some errand for one of the many merchants in town. He was well liked by all who knew him because of his honest, hard work, and his constant willingness to help those in need, and that meant he was always welcome in Dateko for as long as he wanted to remain.

It also meant he was the perfect person for Tooru’s plans.

While his group lost interest in the ranger and returned to their conversations— Moniwa scolding Futakuchi in a low voice as Kamasaki and Sasaya talked in circles around Aone— Tooru kept his gaze glued to the ranger, running the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup, contemplating. Iwaizumi, for his part, kept his eyes turned towards the window on his right, looking out into the dark, snowy night with surprising determination, as if avoiding someone’s gaze. More specifically, Tooru’s gaze.

For the past several weeks, Tooru had been attempting to foster a friendship with Iwaizumi, without much luck. It was frustrating to Tooru, who needed the ranger’s help if he was going to follow through with the advice his mother had given him that one night, along with the pendant resting safely against his chest. And Tooru was running out of time. In a few months he’d turn twenty-one, the age of majority for ruling monarchs, and he’d hold a legitimate claim over the throne once more. But only if he had the force to back his claim, and for that he needed the help from the east his mother had told him about. He needed to get over the mountains.

Tooru couldn’t do that on his own.

Determined, he stood from his seat, garnering a few questioning looks from his group, and strode across the tavern with long, confident steps. The pressure of his father’s latest raid carried him to the ranger’s table, where Tooru’s future hung in the balance. He was going to get Iwaizumi’s agreement to act as his guide, or else he was going to cross the mountain range on his own, regardless of the consequences. After nearly three years of hiding, it was time for him to get out of Dateko.

He quietly sat down in the chair across from Iwaizumi and pasted on his brightest smile. “Hello, Iwaizumi,” he chirped.

The ranger turned from the window to glare at him with dark, narrowed eyes. The light from the lanterns outside cut across his tanned face, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones in fiery orange against the darker shadows of the corner where they sat. His mouth was pulled back into a grimace, the smallest hint of white teeth flashing between his lips, and there was a visible twitch in the corner of his left eye. Everything about him screamed dangerous and caution, and Tooru just beamed.

“You again,” Iwaizumi grunted. His nose wrinkled up in distaste. “What do you want?”

One of Tooru’s hands flew up to his chest, clutching at the coarse shirt over his heart as if in pain. “How rude!” he exclaimed. “Can’t I just enjoy a nice drink with a handsome man?”

Iwaizumi snorted, rolling his eyes.

“That might have worked a few months ago, but I know you better,” he answered, shifting to lean against the table with his chin in his hand.

To anyone else, this might have seemed like a sign of dismissal, a silent command to leave Iwaizumi alone with his drink and to stop bothering him with trivial nonsense. Maybe that’s truly what it was. But Tooru wasn’t so easily dismissed. He’d spent enough time chattering at Iwaizumi in the tavern and over work for the past couple of weeks to know when Iwaizumi was at his snapping point, and this certainly wasn’t it. Not by the way his glare had softened and his wide, tense shoulders had relaxed.

Tooru laced his fingers together on top of the table and regarded Iwaizumi in silence.

The bottle of whiskey Mai had brought earlier, about as tall as half of Tooru’s forearm, was already halfway empty, which meant that Iwaizumi would be in a favorable mood. All the better for Tooru’s purpose. He stretched across the table and grabbed the bottle, refilling Iwaizumi’s almost-empty glass. The ranger lifted a brow but didn’t say anything, lifting his glass in thanks instead before taking a small sip.

“I have a request for you, Iwaizumi,” Tooru finally said, breaking their silence. Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgment. He looked at his glass, swirling the amber whiskey within as he waited, completely at ease. Tooru smiled. “I need you to lead me through the mountains.”

Iwaizumi froze at this, then slowly set his glass of whiskey down. A visible change washed over him, changing him from relaxed and languid to suddenly tense and alert. He turned his eyes of Tooru, gaze so sharp it seemed to pierce right through him, as if trying to discover all of his secrets. Tooru straightened up to match his level of seriousness, which made Iwaizumi frown. Tooru wondered if he’d perhaps been hoping that Tooru was joking, then pondered for moment over why that was.

He came up with nothing.

Iwaizumi apparently came to the same conclusion through his musing, as he asked, “Why?” with furrowed brows.

“That’s my business.”

Iwaizumi’s nose scrunched up again. But what could Tooru do? He certainly had no intentions of revealing his true identity and purpose to Iwaizumi, particularly not in a tavern of all places, where anyone could overhear. That was the very definition of a bad idea.

“I refuse then,” Iwaizumi declared firmly. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t take people into the mountains without knowing their reasons.”

Not what Tooru wanted to hear.

“I need to go east. That’s all you need to know,” he tried again. It was all Tooru could allow himself to say. Iwaizumi didn’t budge, however. He remained steadfast in his decision, so that Tooru finally had to sigh in resignation. “Refuse me, if you want. I’m traveling that way whether you lead me or not. But it will be easier with your help.”

He saw a slight falter in Iwaizumi’s resolution, a flash of concern over his expression before a mask of stoicism covered it once more, and Tooru decided to use it to his advantage.

He sighed dramatically and stood. “Guess that’s that,” he mumbled, just loud enough for Iwaizumi’s excellent hearing to pick up. Stepping around the table, he angled himself back towards his group of friends, looking for every appearance to be giving up, and then smiled to himself when he felt a large, leather-covered hand wrap around his wrist.

Too easy.

“Do you know how to ride?” Iwaizumi asked, almost reluctantly. Tooru swallowed down his triumph and nodded at him.

“Of course.”

“Fine. Meet me tomorrow morning,” Iwaizumi finally sighed. “I’ll get you where you need to go.”

 

* * *

 

Hajime immediately regretted agreeing to guide Oikawa through the mountains, but he had made a promise, and as a ranger he was bound to honor that promise. He just didn’t understand why Oikawa was so set on traveling east.

There was nothing past the mountains. At least nothing that fell within this kingdom’s realm. Everything to the east was barren wasteland, stretching out hundreds of miles before colliding with the territory of the neighboring kingdom, which was just as bad in governing as this kingdom was. Maybe even worse. Hajime knew from experience that the towns to the east didn’t take kindly to strangers. They were wary, reserved, protective. There was absolutely no reason for Oikawa to want to head in that direction, and so this desire of his made Hajime nervous.

At least with Hajime guiding him, however, he’d be able to keep Oikawa away from areas that should be left alone. It was just safer to show Oikawa the way, for everyone involved.

He stood at Dateko’s eastern gates, holding the bridle of his horse in his gloved hand as he waited for Oikawa to arrive. The sturdy grey pawed at the ground, anxious to get going, and Hajime gave a soft tut. He was ready to get a move on as well. But it was near the time that he and Oikawa had agreed to meet, and Hajime had yet to see the male. He was beginning to wonder if Oikawa was going to show up at all even.

Maybe he’d finally thought better of this ridiculous request and decided to stay in Dateko after all. Unlikely, but Hajime couldn’t help but to hope.

That was another thing confusing Hajime. He’d spent years moving in and out of this tiny mining town, observing the daily life and forming friendships with its inhabitants, and yet Oikawa was the first person Hajime had met in this town so desperate to get away. As small as Dateko was, it cared well for its inhabitants, providing everyone abundantly with food and shelter and a tight sense of community that many of the other mountainous towns apparently lacked. It was a good environment, and for the most part that meant those born and raised in Dateko tended to stay in Dateko for the remainder of their lives. And even those who wanted to explore the world never actually ventured further than a few towns away, always returning back to Dateko when their wanderlust had been sated. Not like Oikawa.

Whatever this trip was, it was a permanent departure. Oikawa wasn’t planning on returning to Dateko at all. Hajime could just tell from the set of his shoulders and constant glances towards his friends the night before that he was planning to leave the whole community behind.

Oikawa was strange. He was some sort of unprecedented enigma within this small town. And Hajime really didn’t know what to do with him.

“Sorry. Am I late?” came the familiar voice behind him, smooth baritone mixed with the gentle thudding of hooves on dirt. Hajime spun around to face Oikawa, who was walking towards him with a large, bay horse trotting behind him, looking almost sheepish. “The guys were trying to keep me from leaving. I had to fight them all off,” he laughed, which made Hajime shake his head.

“Idiot. You mean to say you didn’t tell any of your friends you were leaving until the morning of?”

“Well, to be fair,” Oikawa began, plastering on a bright smile, “I didn’t know I would be leaving today until you agreed to guide me last night. That didn’t give me much time to warn them.”

There was truth enough in that, though Hajime still had to wonder. If Oikawa was so set on leaving, if he’d been planning to clear out for several months prior to this like Hajime knew he was, then why wait so long to mention it to his friends? Why not at least vaguely mention his future plans? Unless there was something in this departure that Oikawa didn’t want spreading around. Something he was trying to keep quiet, to hide.

Hajime’s eyes narrowed. He looked over Oikawa, taking in the heavy, fur-lined cloak, the sturdy boots, the thick sweater and leather gloves. Traveling clothes, meant to last through all wind, rain, and snow. It almost surprised Hajime. Most of the people Hajime knew from these parts wouldn’t think twice about using their normal clothes, which was part of the reason why so many people died while passing through the mountains. Either Oikawa had done his research well, or he was accustomed to long, difficult journeys.

And that went for Oikawa’s supplies as well, from what Hajime could see on his horse. There was a bed roll, and a folded up tent, and a large bag of what Hajime assumed to be food hanging next to a full water pouch. Abundant supplies, perfectly suited to their journey, but sparse in personal possessions, which surprised Hajime. And the pack that Oikawa himself carried over his shoulder had only enough room for a few changes of clothing, and maybe a few knick knacks of sentimental value. Nothing more. Was Oikawa going to leave everything he owned behind?

“Is that everything?” he asked, gaze flickering between the pack Oikawa carried and those on his horse.

Even his horse was bred for their journey. Hardy and muscular, with a broad chest and short, strong legs. It was the kind of horse that would do well even if they were short on supplies. It wouldn’t have any trouble with the harsh mountain terrain.

Who was this guy? How was he so prepared?

“Mm. I don’t own much,” Oikawa answered as he lashed the bag he’d been carrying to the back of his saddle. “Too inconvenient.”

He flashed another smile at Hajime, something secretive lurking in the corners of his upturned mouth, and then hoisted himself up into his saddle with a soft grunt. His mounting was incredible though, considering where they were. The citizens of Dateko hardly ever rode their horses, preferring to use them in the fields and mines, but Oikawa swung himself up with a sort of graceful elegance that spoke of years of experience, and probably even professional instruction. He sat in his saddle with confidence. Easy. Well-balanced. Unhesitant.

Hajime didn’t know what to make of it.

“Come on, Iwaizumi,” Oikawa urged. His horse pranced forward a few steps, impatient, before Oikawa pulled him back. “Wasting daylight here.”

Scowling, Hajime shook himself from his thoughts and lifted himself onto his own horse, settling comfortably into the well-worn saddle. “You’re the one who showed up late. And it’s not like I can take the lead when I don’t even know what your destination is.”

He gave Oikawa a pointed look, but received only a waving hand in reply.

“Don’t worry about that. Just get me through the mountains and I can find my way from there.”

“That is the most idiotic plan I have ever heard.”

Oikawa grinned widely, seeming amused by Hajime’s comment, and then spurred his horse into action with a gentle kick of his heels. The bay leapt forward and cantered through the gates, gait smooth, polished, well-paced, even after Hajime had caught up to Oikawa and they brought their horses into a full gallop. Oikawa didn’t falter a bit. He rode smoothly, with a kind of balance Hajime rarely saw in the people he typically guided. On his face was an expression of pure freedom, fire burning bright in his hazel eyes.

Hajime frowned to himself.

Just who was Oikawa?

 

* * *

 

“You aren’t from around these parts, are you?” Iwaizumi questioned him one night, several days into their long journey.

They’d made camp along the edge of the mountain range, where the water from melted snow gathered into a deep lake and the skies stretched clear and wide overhead. It was a cloudless night, and out here, away from all the towns and villages, the stars shone in their full glory, filling the velvet sky with diamonds of the purest light. They were so bright, and seemed so near, that Tooru almost believed he’d be able to scoop a handful of stardust from the spectacle above if he simply stretched his hand out far enough.

Tooru looked over at Iwaizumi, squinting through the firelight to see a scowl etched deeply across the ranger’s face.

“What makes you say that?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. He grabbed a a few sticks from the pile at his side and threw them on the fire, sending sparks through the flames in a tiny, crackling burst. “It’s in the way you ride. No one from Dateko has that kind of practice. And the way you whistle,” he continued, pointing vaguely towards his own mouth, “more of a Western type of call than an Eastern one.”

Tooru’s hand jumped up to cover his mouth.

He never knew that. He hadn’t even realized such a simple thing would say so much about himself, or else he might have been more careful.

For the past several days, Tooru had simply been enjoying the freedom of riding after nearly three years of hiding in the same, small town. The wind against his face, blowing through his hair, had been crisp and clean, free of the iron residue that always seemed to pervade the air of Dateko, and Tooru couldn’t get enough of it. He remembered lifting his face into the wind, smiling at his new-found liberty, barely paying any attention to what he was doing or what it might give away to the man riding alongside him.

Though Tooru really shouldn’t have been so surprised that Iwaizumi of all people had picked up on it. Rangers, he’d heard, were ridiculously perceptive.

“You caught me,” he admitted with a smile. “I’m not from the East.”

“Then why are you heading that way?”

Tooru pressed his lips together, turning his gaze from Iwaizumi to the bow and arrows at Iwaizumi’s side, and then towards the fire burning between them. Flames of orange licked through the darkness, comforting and exciting and dangerous all at once. Much like his secret.

The identity he held so close to himself was a wildfire just waiting to happen. One stray spark, one small mention of his name and the fact that he was actually alive, and the entire kingdom would be consumed by the flames. And Tooru wasn’t just speaking metaphorically. His father would do whatever it took to make sure Tooru was no threat to himself or his chosen heir, even if that meant burning city after city straight down to the ground.

“There are… personal matters I need to take care of,” he answered, hesitant, keeping his words as vague as possible. A hand drifted towards his chest, where his mother’s pendant still hung beneath his thick sweaters, frozen fire just waiting to erupt. A promise, a hope, a future.

He could feel Iwaizumi staring at him, sharp eyes boring into him, probably trying to figure out what it was that Tooru kept so quiet from the way his eyebrows pulled together.

What did he see when he looked at Tooru? What did Tooru’s expression give away? What could Iwaizumi make out in the flickering of firelight across his skin and the silver glow of the stars above?

“You know,” the ranger finally said, low voice breaking through the quiet of the night and crackling of the fire, “if you wanted to die, going through the mountains alone would have been easier.”

“Who said anything about dying?” Tooru laughed. “I can’t die. Not yet.”

He had too much left he needed to do, not to mention a certain throne he still needed to reclaim. And he needed to do it soon.

Just the other day, he and Iwaizumi had ridden through the last town of the kingdom before coming to the mountains. They’d stopped to restock on supplies, and Tooru had never been so glad that his departure from Dateko had occurred after a payday because the food in the market was expensive. He hadn’t realized just how much the price of food was being driven up in the border towns due to lack of access. The townspeople seemed to be standing on their last legs, barely able to afford the necessities, let alone luxuries like spices or new clothing.

And all of that because of Tooru’s father. The damned King and his chosen heir— the young ward who’d shown such promise at such a young age, talented and ruthless in a way Tooru had to work to achieve. And he wasn’t even a blood relation. Just a ward from one of the noble families. Yet he was the one set to inherit the throne, not Tooru, the King’s own son. Damn Kageyama Tobio.

Tooru’s hand pressed more firmly against the pendant, pushing it into his skin. _“When the time comes, it will take you to safety. Just look towards the east,”_ his mother had said. He hoped she was right. He needed all the safety and help he could get if he was going to win back his throne.

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Going east like this is a suicide journey. There’s nothing but cold desert on the other side of this range. And even if you make it through that, the citizens in the next kingdom aren’t going to easily accept you. Their form of hospitality is leaving you out on the streets to fend for yourself.”

“Are you worrying about me, Iwaizumi?” Tooru asked with a grin, oddly flattered. The ranger just snorted.

“Someone has to, since your friends and family apparently won’t.”

“Don’t blame them,” Tooru gently chided, shaking his head. “I never told my friends _where_ I was going, just that I was leaving.” He looked away then and shrugged. “And my parents never got the chance to argue with me. About anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said after a moment, tone gentle for the first time since Tooru had met him all those months ago. It made a bitter smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

He’d long since mourned his mother’s death and resigned himself to a life without her gentle guidance. All that remained now was Tooru’s rage towards his father, whom he disowned the very night he’d tried to have Tooru killed. What kind of a father did that anyways? Who would kill their own son just to keep power?

It filled Tooru with anger, a cry for vengeance tearing at his very soul. His father had stolen everything from Tooru, even himself. Tooru would make sure to repay all of that in full.

The fire between himself and Iwaizumi began to die out as they sat in silence, the flames slowly fading, growing softer in the darkness of the night. Off to the side was a gentle whoosh of breath as one of the horses settled down in the sparse grass to sleep. Tooru supposed he should follow suit soon. Regain as much energy as possible before they started their trek through the actual mountains. He didn’t move though, and neither did Iwaizumi.

The ranger seemed to be contemplating something. In the dim light Tooru could see the way his hands kept fidgeting— still gloved, always gloved just in case he needed to shoot— and felt a flicker of surprise rush through him. He’d never seen the ranger fidget before. Iwaizumi was always too calm and composed, too sure of himself and what he was about, to let anything unsettle him. But none of that confidence was here now. It disappeared into the darkness like the fire, which now only smoldered in the small pit they had dug.

“My parents,” he began, soft and timid and almost secretive, “gave me up when I was younger. Left me on the mountain to die, without any food or shelter. I think I was about four at the time.”

Tooru’s eyes widened in shock. He’d heard of such things happening, especially recently with families unable to afford the need for more food, but it had always been knowledge of a far off kind, never directly affecting Tooru or anyone he knew. He tried to imagine what it must have been like, Iwaizumi so small on the wild mountains, unable to defend or care for himself. He must have been terrified and confused. Probably wondered why his parents would just leave him there all alone, and when they would be coming back for him. Tooru didn’t know how Iwaizumi managed to survive.

“What happened then?” he asked, knowing there was more to this story. Iwaizumi wouldn’t have been able to make it on his own. Not in these mountains.

“Some people from my village stumbled upon me and took me back with them,” he answered. “I’ve lived there ever since.”

Standing, Iwaizumi kicked some dirt over the dying embers and grabbed his bow and arrows. He looked at Tooru and gave a tiny smile. It was the first Tooru had ever seen from him, so small but still so warm and genuine, and it sent Tooru’s heart hammering painfully against his ribcage as Iwaizumi stared right at him. Almost staring through him, like he knew everything from Tooru’s past, and maybe even from Tooru’s future.

“Good things can still come from bad situations,” he said, leaving Tooru speechless. “If you’re just willing to wait for them.”

The pendant around Tooru’s neck rested warm and smooth against the skin of his chest, where his hand was still pressing against it. He remembered the gentleness of his mother the night she had given it to him, the comfort she had offered and the security she had promised as long as Tooru remembered that one magic phrase that had always gotten him through everything up to this point.

“ _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol._ ”

Ancient words he didn’t even know the meaning of, except that they kept him safe, and led him from certain death to this very mountain he was camping on, with the stars so clear above and tranquility blanketing the entire landscape around him. Beauty and harmony he never would have experienced if not for the drive pushing him forward.

Tooru couldn’t tell yet where this all would lead, if it would lead to success in the end or if it would all fall apart before him. But maybe, just maybe, Iwaizumi was right.

 

* * *

 

There was a noticeable difference between the two of them after that night. Things became easier, and also more difficult at the same time. At least for Hajime.

It was… strange, having confided what he did to Oikawa. His abandonment was something he kept pushed far back into the recesses of his mind, partially because it still hurt to think about but mostly he preferred to dwell on the fact that he’d been found by his adoptive family instead. Still, when Oikawa had mentioned his parents’ deaths, Hajime felt like he needed to reveal something similar in return. Pay back what must have been a painful memory with something of his own.

He found it was a smart move when Oikawa started talking more openly about himself and his destination the very next day, which was exactly what Hajime wanted. However, the opening of the flood gates also meant that Oikawa never shut up anymore.

Hajime could already feel a headache coming as they rode through the mountains, and the day had only just begun.

Oikawa was chattering away about something or another that happened while he was in Dateko. Hajime didn’t really pay attention to these stories anymore after a couple days of hearing them non-stop. It was kind of incredible how Oikawa could talk so much about so little, but at least it meant that Hajime didn’t have to say anything, and that worked out just fine for him. He had his own secrets to keep, and not many stories to hide behind.

But Hajime kept in mind a few of the things he’d learned from Oikawa’s rambling. The first being that Oikawa had traveled more of the kingdom than any normal person had reason to before settling down in Dateko. But why Dateko, when Oikawa had been to such large cities like Nekoma, and Fukuro, and Shinzen? He was more suited to the larger cities. Had the world knowledge and charm that would allow him to thrive in such places. Not to mention how obviously attractive Oikawa was, with his chestnut hair and expressive eyes. He’d have been able to make his way through the big cities easily. And yet he chose a small, industrial town and its dirty mines.

That had to say something about the kind of person Oikawa was. Or at least the kind of situation he was in. The only reason an outsider like Oikawa would settle down in a place like Dateko was to hide from something. Hajime could only guess what that something was.

And then there were those moments when Oikawa was totally silent. That was the second thing Hajime picked up on. For someone as talkative as Oikawa, his silence almost seemed unnatural, though Hajime assumed there had to be some moments where even Oikawa ran out of words. However, there were times where the silence was so heavy with words unspoken that even Hajime felt its pressure.

He never knew when to expect these moments. They came and went like the wind blew: unpredictable, brief, but strong. They all had something in common, however, which was the way Oikawa’s fingers caressed a delicate, silver chain that hung around his neck. Some sort of necklace, with a small pendant Oikawa always kept hidden, if the tiny bulge in his sweater was anything to go by. From family? A friend? A lover? Hajime didn’t know. Oikawa never mentioned it. He just fingered the chain whenever he went off into his own world, keeping his memories to himself.

And that’s when Hajime realized just how much Oikawa was still keeping back about himself and his situation.

Not that it really concerned Hajime. He was just there to act as a guide, to make sure Oikawa took the right path through the mountains and didn’t stumble upon things best left alone. As long as Oikawa’s destination didn’t interfere with that, then his reasons for heading East had no significance to Hajime.

Even if Hajime couldn’t keep himself from wondering.

 

* * *

 

Traveling, Tooru found, was more difficult than he remembered.

Maybe it was due to the terrain. When Tooru had fled from his castle to the outermost parts of the kingdom, he’d been riding at full gallop across gently rolling plains and flat forests, as opposed to the steep, rocky paths of the mountains. It was easier to stop and rest, to walk around and stretch out his legs, on such level terrain. But the mountains didn’t allow for that. And there was just something about riding a horse at slow walk for hours at a time that just made his whole body stiff, from his shoulders down to his very toes. The constant shifting and bouncing in the saddle left him sore, and not in the work-weary way that Tooru could take satisfaction in.

Finally at a resting point, Tooru stretched out his legs and groaned. His horse nickered softly beside him, and Tooru ran a hand soothingly down his nose, gently smoothing over the areas his bridle had been rubbing against that entire day.

“I bet you’re hungry,” he murmured, smiling gently when his horse nosed at his shoulder, as if in agreement. Unsaddled now, both horses were more at ease, and slightly more demanding. Tooru grabbed some feed, the last of the provisions he and Iwaizumi had gotten from the village they passed through, and let his horse nibble it from his hand while Iwaizumi’s horse got whatever was left from the feed bag. “This is all you guys are going to get for a while, so make it last.”

At least some of them were getting fed this way.

Tooru sighed and ran a hand down his horse’s neck, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness of his stomach. He wasn’t used to the meal schedule of traveling any more. Living in Dateko had softened him up, made him used to the luxuries of normal meal times and soft, warm beds and a roof overhead— all luxuries he hadn’t possessed when he’d fled from the castle to save his own life, and that he also no longer possessed with his decision to search out the help his mother had mentioned. He tried to remind himself of the goal he pursued, the satisfaction he would feel once he took his birthright back and kicked Tobio from the castle, but none of that helped when mountain rain started pouring down from nowhere, soaking Tooru to the bone. Or when his stomach was so empty it felt like it just might devour itself.

He’d gone soft, that’s all there was to it. Iwaizumi didn’t seem to mind the god-awful early breakfasts and meager lunches; he was used to them. Tooru just needed to get used to them too. At least dinner was always worth the wait. It was the one meal they still cooked over a fire, and so it was always warm and delicious. There was already a decent fire crackling to life in the small pit Tooru had dug out, fanned to life among some of the sticks Iwaizumi had brought with them from the forests, but Tooru couldn’t get started on cooking until Iwaizumi returned from the mountain stream with water to boil.

Until then, Tooru was left to his own devices.

He sat down on one of the many boulders and stretched out his legs. The fire snapped happily off to the side, flames of red and orange and yellow dancing into existence in the periphery of his vision, seeming almost identical in color to his mother’s pendant. His hand drifted towards it, curling over the pendant through the fabric of his sweater, then, after glancing around quickly to make sure he was truly alone, Tooru pulled it out and stared at it.

The crystal gleamed brightly in the light of the fire, seeming to almost pulsate with life. “What are you?” he whispered at it, despite knowing it wouldn’t answer.

Oh, he’d figured out a long time ago that the pendant wasn’t _actually_ a dragon egg. There was no way with how small it was, not to mention that it was made entirely of carved crystal, save for the small hole through which the necklace chain passed through. His mother’s claim was nothing more than a way to get a six-year-old’s attention and respect. Or perhaps that’s just what the style of pendant was called. Regardless, the mystery of the pendant and the help it would bring remained unanswered for Tooru, who was walking blindly into the very heart of destiny.

Why had his mother given him this pendant? What sort of aid would it provide? What did that ancient phrase he’d memorized even mean or have to do with anything?

A part of him wanted to ask Iwaizumi about it. Rangers usually held more insight into the old customs than normal civilians did, and they always picked up more about the secrets of the kingdom than even the best of the King’s spies. If anyone in the kingdom knew what this pendant signified, it was probably a ranger like Iwaizumi. That thought alone made the idea of telling him extremely tempting.

But then, Tooru had promised his mother he’d keep the pendant safe, and that he’d keep it a secret. At least when interacting with people Tooru didn’t completely, unquestionably, irrevocably trust. And as helpful as Iwaizumi had been over the past two weeks of travel, he certainly didn’t fall into that category. Not yet.

Tooru rubbed his thumb over the smooth crystal, and then held it out so that it dangled before his eyes, where he grew transfixed by the colors. The red streaks were more vibrant in the firelight, while the yellow and blue flecks sparkled with every small movement. Tooru had always said the pendant was like frozen fire, but in the glow of the campfire, it appeared to almost come to life, snapping and dancing along with the very flames before him. Power in motion. Energy thrumming and swirling all around. Drawing Tooru in. Calling to him.

“Where did you get that?”

The rough question broke the trance Tooru had fallen into, and he looked away from the pendant to see Iwaizumi standing across from him, bow drawn and pointed straight at him. The pendant slipped from his fingers.

“It’s nothing,” he tried to assure as he hastened to slip the pendant back under his sweater. But Iwaizumi was having none of it. As soon as Tooru’s fingers twitched towards the pendant, Iwaizumi pulled his arrow back just a bit further in threat. Tooru quickly gave up on that option. “My mother gave it to me. I don’t know why you’re so worked up, it’s just a neckla—”

“It’s not, and you know it,” Iwaizumi interrupted. There was no teasing in his voice, no apathy either. Just harsh accusation, though Tooru couldn’t imagine why. The ranger glared at him, dark eyes narrowed into dangerous, suspicious slits, as he slowly walked closer to Tooru, bow still drawn. Tooru tried not to stare at the arrow tip aimed straight at his heart. “Who are you, and why do you have that pendant? And don’t even try to act like you don’t know what I mean.”

Tooru frowned. “I don’t have to act,” he answered, staunchly keeping his eyes locked to Iwaizumi’s own. “I honestly don’t know why you’re so worked up about it.” Iwaizumi snorted, and Tooru insisted, “Truly. This pendant was a gift from my mother. She called it a dragon egg and made me memorize some ancient phrase, but that’s it. I couldn’t tell you why either of those things are important.”

But Iwaizumi obviously did. He knew exactly what the pendant was and what it meant. Everything except for why Tooru had it in the first place. And that was setting Iwaizumi on edge.

The ranger sized him up, eyes boring into Tooru’s skull as if trying to see straight into his mind. Like he was trying to decide whether or not to trust what Tooru said, and whether to reveal the information that Tooru so desperately wanted. Whatever this pendant was, whatever significance it held, it was apparently something Iwaizumi guarded closely. Why?

After a moment, Iwaizumi’s pull on his bowstring slackened. He didn’t lower the weapon, still prepared to attack should Tooru prove false, but he was clearly giving Tooru a chance.

“Who are you?”

Tooru weighed his choices. On one hand, he could continue to hide behind his false name, pretend to be a well-traveled peasant with personal business in the east. He hadn’t been with Iwaizumi long enough to trust his secrecy about Tooru’s true identity, though he was pretty sure by this point that Iwaizumi wouldn’t attack him or try to use him for ransom or such. He was smarter than that. Smart enough to realize that Tooru was lying if he continued trying to pretend. And then all the knowledge Tooru craved about his mother’s pendant would probably be lost to him forever.

On the other hand, he could tell Iwaizumi who he really was. He could reveal everything he’d worked so hard to hide for the past three years and just trust Iwaizumi to keep his silence. It was risky, but then the ranger didn’t seem to be a stranger to keeping things secret. He was obviously protective of the pendant’s true significance, perhaps he’d be the same with Tooru’s secret. And then there was the obvious bonus that Iwaizumi might reveal what was so important about the pendant.

The choice really wasn’t that difficult to make.

“I am Prince Tooru. The rightful heir to the throne,” he finally answered. And lord, did it feel good to finally tell someone. But Iwaizumi just shook his head.

“No. That’s impossible. The prince died three years ago.”

“That’s what you were told.” He leveled his gaze at Iwaizumi, tone going flat as he recalled the details of his disappearance’s aftermath. “Tell me. Was there a body at the funeral? Did my father gloat over my death, knowing I was no longer a threat?”

He didn’t need Iwaizumi’s answers; Tooru knew the truth better than anyone. Knew exactly what that funeral had been— a farce. And not a very good one either, with how much speculation still surrounded his disappearance nearly three years after the fact. Futakuchi had laid it out simply enough, echoing all that Tooru had heard about his own funeral. The casket had been a closed one, the procession through the capital not nearly long enough to honor the passing of a crown prince, and the service itself uncommonly limited to only the closest of family and friends. It was all very suspicious to any that bothered to stop and consider it. And it wasn’t helped by the poorly concealed expression his father was rumored to have worn that entire day— smug, bordering on gleeful, with all the contentment of a cat having just killed a rodent.

He recalled citizens of various cities discussing that rumor for months in hushed, hurried voices. Surely that couldn’t have escaped Iwaizumi’s notice at the time. Surely he knew the implications.

The ranger’s draw on his bow faltered, becoming almost nonexistent as he mulled over the situation in his mind. Tooru could almost see the cogs turning in his head, sliding into place, forming an undeniable truth based on Tooru’s words.

“You’re the prince…” Iwaizumi breathed, as if still in disbelief. “But why would you—”

“My mother once told me to look East for help,” Oikawa interrupted, guessing where Iwaizumi’s question was headed. He folded his fist tightly around his mother’s pendant, then took a deep breath. “I need help. I can’t dethrone my father on my own. But I can’t just sit aside any longer and watch this kingdom be reduced to nothing.”

Iwaizumi stared at him in silence, considering him.

“That phrase you mentioned,” he finally said, and Tooru nodded.

“ _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol_.”

Just as in the past, the words fell heavy from his tongue, weighed down power and meaning. The same power that had kept Tooru alive all this time. Tooru just hoped it would work once more and lead him to the help he so desperately required.

Across from him, Iwaizumi slipped his arrow back into his quiver and set his bow on the ground, apparently having decided Tooru was telling the truth after all. He walked over to the horses and coaxed his grey to stand. Then, unexpectedly, he began saddling the horse once more.

“What are you doing?” Tooru asked, also standing. The ranger was packing up, leaving nothing behind to indicate any plans of returning. Was Iwaizumi planning to ride off and just leave him here?

“Change of plans, Your Highness,” Iwaizumi said. The title didn’t get past Tooru’s notice, who stood there watching the ranger with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I know where you need to go, but we’ll have to travel day and night to make up for lost time.” He buckled up the saddle and then looked sharply over at Tooru. “And don’t argue with me. You’ve already shown you have no idea what you’re wearing, so you’re just going to have to trust me on this. I’ll get you where you need to go.”

The words and look quelled any desire within Tooru to make some form of protest. He stood there for a moment, weighing Iwaizumi’s words and all that they indicated, and then slipped the chain of his mother’s pendant back over his head, where it would be safe.

Silently, he grabbed his saddle and walked over to the horses.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi hadn’t been exaggerating when he said they’d be riding day and night. Other than necessary pauses to eat and give the horses rest, the two were constantly on the move. The last time Tooru had traveled at such a hectic pace was when he’d been fleeing from the castle, riding with all his might towards the safety of the mountain towns, where his father would never deign to look for him.

Their rush this time held a similar motivation, though Tooru had no clue what they were fleeing towards. He didn’t question Iwaizumi, however. The ranger appeared confident in the path they took, leading Tooru further and further into the mountain valley where the winter snow dusted over the rocky landscape.

Tooru shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. His breath streamed out in front of him in light mist, mixing with the tiny flurries of snow which fell upon them as they traversed the rocks. Stepping wrong on the icy ground, his horse balked, and Tooru quickly forced himself from his exhaustion to regain control. Iwaizumi glanced back at him, seeming to have heard the disturbance, but, seeing there was no danger, quickly turned forward and continued on, trusting Tooru to follow once he was ready.

Tooru cursed under his breath and shifted, wincing at the raw soreness in his legs from being in the saddle for so long. Everything about him was exhausted, worn down by the long days of constant travel, and the cold of the mountains seemed to blow right through his tired form. Working in the mines and refineries of Dateko had made Tooru strong, but not for this. Not for five days of constant travel, surviving only on the barest store of energy and warmth. What Tooru wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep in the protection of his tent and bed roll.

“Are we close?” he called out. Iwaizumi tilted his head back but said nothing, just kept moving on. Taking this as the ranger’s answer, Tooru sighed.

It seemed there was still quite a ways to go.

Iwaizumi crested the top of a small hill first and pulled his horse to a stop. The grey pranced impatiently and whinnied. Seeing this, Tooru spurred his horse onward, thinking Iwaizumi was waiting for him to catch up. But, upon reaching the hilltop, Tooru saw what had really caught the ranger’s attention— a black horse with a cloaked rider, headed straight towards them.

Tooru looked over at Iwaizumi. The ranger didn’t seem alarmed or even surprised, simply waiting for the horseman to reach their position. Perhaps this was someone Iwaizumi knew and trusted. That seemed most likely, especially as the rider drew near and Iwaizumi galloped forward to meet him, Tooru right behind.

“Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi greeted the rider with a deep nod. His hand lifted to touch first his heart, then between his eyes before gesturing out at the rider as, to Tooru’s shock, Iwaizumi intoned, “ _Ahn bremayoht_.”

“ _Brehms_ ,” the rider answered, mirroring Iwaizumi’s motions. He lowered his hood and greeted Iwaizumi with a lazy smile across his long, tanned face. “ _Sci vihtenyohn chim_?”

“ _Nufiyahn_ ,” Iwaizumi sighed, which made Matsukawa laugh.

Tooru looked between the two of them, shocked and confused. The words with which they spoke were filled with the same power and age as the phrase Tooru’s mother had recited to him as a child, but Tooru had thought that language long dead, left only with certain phrases and words to be remembered by. Not enough to hold an actual conversation, as Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were doing. The revelation threw him off balance.

In his surprise, he didn’t notice the way Matsukawa’s eyes flickered over to him, expression hardening and becoming more wary. At least not until he asked Iwaizumi, “ _Yan viht zeh_?”

The ranger looked over and met Tooru’s stare.

“ _Di rahnaya_ ,” he answered a moment later, and Tooru nearly shivered at the way that phrase seemed to surround and caress his being, its power flowing right through to his very soul. There was a quirk at the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips, then he turned his horse into the valley, tearing his gaze from Tooru, and declared, “We should continue on. This is no place to dally.”

Matsukawa nodded. “As you say. The Elders will be anxious to hear your news,” he said. Then, with a final glance at Tooru, he kicked his heels and galloped ahead of Iwaizumi and Tooru, leading them through the valley

Tooru had no idea what was happening, but followed the two through the valley, watching as they conversed with words Tooru couldn’t hear, and probably wouldn’t understand even if he could. It was all very… confusing. And startling. Tooru knew that rangers such as Iwaizumi tended to be connected to the land and the ancient traditions, but never to this extent. This was a knowledge which went far beyond what any citizen in the kingdom had access to, ranger or not.

Tooru was still mulling over the implications when the three of them rode into the heart of the valley, right between two imperious mountains, and the buildings and tents of a village appeared in his sights. Iwaizumi’s village; of this Tooru was almost certain. He took it all in, from the closest buildings to the furthest, and still further to a sight which made Tooru stop dead in his tracks.

Iwaizumi glanced back with a grin. “Welcome to _Devanan vahn nahga_. My home.”

Tooru barely heard him.

All of his focus was concentrated on a single point within the valley, where reptilian creatures lounged, jewel-toned scales glimmering under the beams of sunlight that broke through the thick clouds of steam blowing from each snout. Leathery wings stretched out here and there, while others kept their wings folded neatly at their sides as they curled like house cats on the rocky ground. Tooru forgot how to breath while looking at them.

The pendant resting against his chest felt warm and heavy, and Tooru clutched at it, recalling every story his mother had ever told him. Every fantasy he’d ever had. Unbidden, the word came to his mind and anchored itself in his thoughts, turning everything he’d once known upside down.

 _Nahga_ , he thought, looking upon the creatures. The beings that would undoubtedly be the key to his victory. _Dragons._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Those darker emotions inside of Tooru… they could be toxic if left to fester. Or they could become Tooru’s greatest strength. But only if Tooru himself had the strength to face them."

As Issei had predicted, the elders called both Hajime and Oika— Tooru— to the central tent as soon as word got around that he had finally returned.

Hajime wasn’t surprised. He normally met with the elders soon after he came home to reveal what he’d seen and heard of the kingdom’s status while in the border towns, but usually after he’d had a day to rest. He supposed part of the reason for such a hasty meeting had to do with the male he’d brought back to the village with him. It was uncommon for an outsider to be allowed into the village. The continued existence of dragons here in the mountains was knowledge too important to trust just anyone with. The elders probably wanted to question and judge Tooru’s motives as soon as possible, just to be sure.

As such, Hajime and Tooru quickly found themselves standing in the middle of the tent before a select group of villagers. Ukai and Irihata took lead as representatives of the village elders, while Keishin, Takeda, and Mizoguchi, the current village leaders, stood slightly behind them. To the side, Hajime spotted Daichi and his partner, Koushi, both of whom would one day take over as village leaders, if Hajime’s guess was correct. And Hajime was hardly ever wrong.

Hajime stared the group down one by one while Tooru trembled slightly at his side. He felt apprehension twist uncomfortably in his gut— not for himself, but for the man standing beside him. If Tooru didn’t earn the acceptance of the village leaders, then there was nothing more Hajime could do for him. After all, while Hajime himself felt that Tooru had spoken true, he had no power to change the minds of the elders once their judgment was made. And this would be the end.

Become a part of the village, or be killed. These were the only options available with the secret they harbored. The one that needed to be kept from Tooru’s father at all costs.

“Who are you?” Ukai finally asked, gaze fixed firmly on Tooru’s tense form. “And why have you come here?”

“I brought him here, _devayan_. He is—”

Ukai cut him off with a single, raised hand, and Hajime, after a moment of hesitation, bowed his head in acknowledgment. Tooru would have to handle this on his own, it seemed. Hajime just hoped he knew better than to try and conceal the truth as he’d done when they first traveled together. Holding back anything, regardless of the reason, was the surest way to receive a death sentence.

Thankfully, Tooru didn’t even appear to consider that option.

He stepped forward, moving to stand just a fraction in front of Hajime, and met Ukai’s eyes with his own determined gaze. “I am Tooru, the rightful Crown Prince and heir to the throne,” he answered, voice wavering only the slightest bit. “I’ve come in search of help to reclaim the throne and avenge the wrongs my father has committed.”

From his spot behind Tooru, Hajime noticed the subtle changes in the expressions of the group. The small twitches of eyes and cheeks and lips that betrayed each of their reactions to Tooru’s declaration. Disbelief, surprise, hope, anger, distrust. Invisible to all but the sharpest of eyes.

Most of all, Hajime saw judgment. It was clear to him that the group— save for perhaps Daichi and Koushi, the youngest and arguably the most open-minded of the village leaders— didn’t trust Tooru’s declaration, and that they were set on getting him to prove it somehow, just as Hajime had days before. The claim was so big, so monumental, it was hard to believe without anything to back it up. Especially with how much hung in the balance.

“Prince Tooru was assumed to be dead. How are we to trust who you said you are?” Keishin asked after the group had conferred for a moment.

Tooru tensed, but held his head up high. And if Hajime hadn’t believed in Tooru’s claims to royalty, the authority and confidence in Tooru’s voice certainly would have made him reassess his opinion.

“That funeral was nothing more than a parade for an empty coffin,” Tooru stated. “My father tried to kill me, chased me from the palace, and has been hunting me ever since, burning down city after city to try and smoke me out. Whatever the kingdom has said about me is nothing more than propaganda to keep my father in power when he should be shut away.”

He spat his words with a sort of regal disdain that Hajime only ever heard from the aristocracy, though it was never leveled against the king before this point. His declaration sparked murmurs amongst the gathered group, all in Ahmsahi, the Old Tongue, so that Tooru couldn’t understand. But Hajime could, and he picked at the threads of conversation with apprehension.

It seemed the group was of two minds about Tooru’s proclamation. On the one hand, the elders and Keishin seemed distrustful of Tooru’s intentions and truthfulness, wanting to kick Tooru from their presence and make sure he’d never speak of what he’d seen, while Takeda, Mizoguchi, Daichi, and Koushi all argued to give Tooru a chance to prove himself. They seemed hopeful, as Hajime was, of what Tooru’s presence could mean for their village. A chance for a new life, no more hiding, no more oppression, all under a ruler who’d be eager to set things right. And the kingdom desperately needed that. Ukai and Irihata both frowned and looked at each other.

“A passionate speech,” Ukai finally said, “but unprovable at this moment. We need something more concrete.”

Tooru held his gaze for a moment, then slowly— clearly reluctantly— pulled the chain around his neck up to show off the golden Dragon’s Egg pendant Hajime had seen earlier. Hajime wasn’t surprised to see the entire group grow suddenly alert.

The pendant was the village’s trademark, their identification system of sorts. Every member of the village was given one, even the small children. It was a sign of the community, but also a way to find allies and safety when outside of the village’s protection. Hajime’s own sat safely in a locked box in his tent, where he always left it when he left the village. As a ranger, he could survive on his own and never had any need of finding shelter with other sympathizers. He also dealt with so many different people on a daily basis that he just felt safer leaving it behind, where it wouldn’t be seen by the wrong person and compromise their way of life.

The pendants were unusual, after all. No other town in the kingdom produced anything like it because of its close affinity with dragons, but that didn’t stop people from being curious. There were many people throughout the kingdom who’d pay a pretty coin to take the pendant off his hands, even more so because, like every pendant made, the crystal it was carved from was completely unique. No two pendants were the same in color or in pattern.

This also made them something of a personal identifier as well.

Both Ukai and Irihata walked forward to examine the pendant Tooru held more closely. They were the only ones old enough to remember which pendant had gone to the deceased queen so long ago, and they’d long kept eyes and ears open for any mention of what had become of that pendant after her death. If the crystal Tooru held wasn’t hers, they’d know.

“Before she was killed, my mother passed this onto me. Said it would protect me and bring me help,” Tooru explained as the two elders scrutinized the pendant, taking in every detail and color.

“It is true that a crystal belonged to the Queen,” Irihata conceded, rubbing his chin. He squinted at the pendant, and tilted his head this way and that, as if a different angle would reveal some sort of falsehood to him. But, finally, he nodded. “I’m almost certain this crystal is that very same one.”

Ukai frowned and muttered, “But is that enough to clear him? He could be some sort of spy or king’s man sent to trick us with that story.”

Hajime snorted, knowing just how ludicrous that entire idea was, and everyone in the tent turned to look at him— most with confusion and, on Tooru’s part only, offense, but Irihata considered him long and hard. He was thoughtful, piecing something together as he stared at Hajime.

Irihata rubbed his chin again.

“ _Locht bretanyoht zeh?_ ” he asked. _Do you trust him?_

Hajime sucked in a deep breath and looked over at Tooru.

Trust? Trust was such a heavy word, and required more commitment than Hajime was actually sure he had. He certainly believed Tooru’s story, in so far as he believed Tooru was the prince and received the pendant from his mother, and was possibly a better choice for monarch than his father. But did Hajime truly trust him to be that person? Would he put his own life on the line to vouch for Tooru’s good intentions?

 _“Veh,”_ he answered softly, nodding. “ _Bretanahn zeh._ ”

The tension within the tent broke at Hajime’s response, seeping away into almost nothing. Takeda and Koushi both beamed brightly at his words while Daichi, still standing at Koushi’s side, nodded in acceptance. They seemed to embrace his assurance wholeheartedly, taking Hajime’s favorable judgment of Tooru as all the reason they needed to welcome Tooru into the village. And indeed, even the elders, Keishin, and Mizoguchi appeared to be out of arguments to explore, though they were all still wary, as was to be expected.

Irihata, at least, smiled at Tooru and offered a tiny bow of his head as he said, “You are welcome here, Your Highness. On the conditions that you remain in this village until given permission to leave, and that you share the work of the rest of the village.” Standard requirements for anyone entering their village, but Irihata still leveled Tooru with a stern look and asked, “Will this be an issue?”

Tooru stared defiantly back at him. “I worked in the mines of Dateko for three years before coming here. I am no stranger to hard work.”

This time, both Irihata and Ukai smiled, apparently pleased by his response.

Seeing that, Hajime let out a tiny breath and allowed himself to relax. The worst was over with now, meaning Tooru had made it through the fire unscathed and would find sanctuary inside their little community. He’d still have to integrate himself into the village and learn all of their customs if he wanted to remain here, not to mention the hard physical labor he’d have to give to help keep the village running, but at least Tooru wasn’t in any immediate, life-threatening danger any more.

Hajime would have felt terrible about that.

Keishin looked past Tooru to where Hajime was standing. “Hajime, will you stay a moment?” he asked, and then gestured over to the side where Daichi and Koushi were as he added, “Koushi can show the Prince to your home.”

Hajime nodded.

Now they would get to the business side of things and ask Hajime all about matters of trade and what he’d learned of the kingdom. Just the usual discussion that happened every time he returned to the village. There was no need for Tooru to remain to hear this, boring as it all was, and so he gently nudged Tooru in Koushi’s direction as he walked over to the village leaders, feeling glad when Tooru took the hint and followed Koushi from the tent to the main village.

Hajime spared only a single glance over his shoulder as Tooru walked out of the tent behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Stepping out into the open air of the village came as a huge relief to Tooru. The tension inside the tent had been thick and heavy, so much so that Tooru almost had trouble breathing. Though part of that, Tooru knew, was due to his own worry that the group wouldn’t accept his story, and he was sure the consequence for that was something he didn’t want to know about.

Abandonment on the mountains? Maybe. Killing? More likely. They couldn’t afford to let the existence of dragons be known outside of their trusted group. It was too important.

Tooru couldn’t begrudge them for that, but he was still ridiculously happy to be free of the elders’ scrutiny and accepted, to some degree, into the community, which was starting to wind down as the day drew to a close. He followed Koushi through the crowd of villagers as they all returned to their own homes. Most of which, he noticed, were large tents, but ones made of a leathery sort of material Tooru had never seen before.

“Dragon hide,” Koushi explained when Tooru asked him about it. “From the older dragons, after they died. It protects against almost everything.” He smiled warmly at Tooru— the first truly welcoming smile Tooru had seen in years— and added, “You’ll find most things around here are made with their help.”

Tooru didn’t doubt that. He’d barely been in this village for more than an hour, and already he could see the little traces all over. The dragon hide tents, the large fires that never would have survived elsewhere in the mountains, the leathery clothes and armor that almost everyone seemed to wear in some form or fashion. The village itself was condensed into just a small part of the valley, leaving the rest of the area for the dragons, which all lounged about like lazy housecats while the humans apparently finished up their chores and turned in for the night. All around were signs of the symbiotic relationship these humans shared with the dragons, and Tooru was in awe.

This was the life he’d imagined as a kid, when his mother had told him stories of dragons, but had stopped believing in long ago.

“How do you manage to keep all of this secret?” he asked, truly impressed. His father had been merciless in his extermination of dragons, chasing down every rumor and whisper until Tooru was certain that they had all been wiped out. Keeping this whole thing quiet, raising so many dragons without the knowledge of the kingdom? It was incredible.

“We don’t interact much with the rest of the kingdom if we can help it,” Koushi answered. “If we need anything, we send out people we can trust. Like Hajime.”

Tooru pulled his cloak tighter. “You trust Iwaizu— Hajime?” he asked. The name felt odd falling from his tongue, and he frowned. “How long have you known him?”

“Since he was brought into the village, I think? We grew up together.”

Humming, Koushi led Tooru to a tent near the edge of the village, where Tooru could see both his and Hajime’s horses already tied and unsaddled. The packs sat at the entrance to the tent, ready to be organized and put away, and Tooru guessed that this was Hajime’s tent. And now Tooru’s tent as well, he supposed. At least until he was able to get his own, instead of the flimsy little thing he already owned.

Koushi held back the tent flap so Tooru could enter, and he came face to face with an almost empty living space. There was only a cot on the left with a small trunk at its side, nothing else. So simple and bare that it looked almost unused. Abandoned, even. Tooru wondered suddenly how often Hajime actually stayed in the village if his own home looked this way.

“You know, you’re lucky Hajime was the one to find you,” Koushi said as he entered the tent. When Tooru looked back at him in question, he added, “No one else would have thought to give you a chance. Not that they would have believed you anyways.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I believe in Hajime’s assessment of you,” Koushi answered simply. “Hajime has always been the most observant of us, and also the most guarded. He’s not easily fooled or led astray. That’s why he’s the one handling all of the outside trading for this village.” Koushi took a deep breath, then looked Tooru straight in the eyes. “And if he trusts you, which he does, then so will I.”

 

* * *

 

After Koushi had left him to settle in, Tooru had become pretty apprehensive about sharing a tent with Hajime for the foreseeable future, if only because of the suddenly close proximity the tent forced them into. They’d always slept on opposite sides of the campfire while traveling, so this was a new dynamic. Not unpleasant (at least for Tooru), but new.

Nevertheless, Tooru spread out his bed roll and blankets in an empty space of the tent and tried not to think about how Hajime might react to this new intruder in his tent. Surely, he hadn’t been expecting to be stuck with Tooru even after arriving in the village. Tooru wouldn’t have blamed him if Hajime got all irritated about the situation, because Tooru definitely would have if he was in Hajime’s place. So Tooru kept his possessions as condensed as possible and out of Hajime’s way. He’d be as unobtrusive a burden as possible.

Living with Hajime, however, turned out to be remarkably easy.

For one thing, there was apparently a custom in the village that whoever brought someone new into the community would house them for however long was necessary, which meant Hajime not only expected Tooru to stay with him, but was also completely relaxed about the entire thing. He paused only once to ask Tooru if he had everything he needed, and then proceeded to go about his own business.

They created a sort of routine in those first few days. Hajime was up long before Tooru and usually left before Tooru even woke, but not before leaving out some bread and porridge for Tooru to eat. Then, once Tooru was ready for the day, he’d seek out some chore to help with around the village, usually with Koushi if Tooru could manage it, because at least Koushi would welcome him with a happy smile and ready explanations whenever Tooru didn’t understand something.

It was from Koushi that Tooru learned about the village customs, and the monthly community feasts, and where Tooru could go to trade for new clothes or blankets or even food (which Tooru tested out by trading a small trinket from his days in Datekou for a new pair of dragon hide boots). And it was also from Koushi that Tooru learned where Hajime went every day, though Tooru didn’t have the nerve to go and see for himself.

As thrilled as he was about dragons being alive, he wasn’t exactly ready to walk into their den just to find Hajime. He was still in too much shock.

Instead, Tooru focused on learning some of the language.

Ahmsahi, it was called. The mother tongue. Oldest of all the kingdom languages, before it was overtaken by the current language. But this village kept it alive, preferring to communicate through the old tongue whenever possible. The only phrase he actually recognized from the start was the very phrase that had brought him to the village in the first place.

 _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol._ May your flight be blessed.

Or so Koushi told him when Tooru asked for a translation. 

He didn't hear it often. After a few days though, (and after a few villagers Tooru hadn't yet met left for the border towns), Tooru picked up on its use as a farewell for those about to travel, wishing luck for their journey. And, like everything else, it was deeply connected to the dragons they lived with, much to Tooru's confusion. 

Why even the language?

“It’s a dragon dialect,” Koushi tried to explain to Tooru while they helped Daichi gather firewood. “Legend says the first dragon riders learned it from their dragons.”

Daichi laughed. “That’s just an old story,” he countered. “No one knows where the language came from. But the dragons acknowledge it, so we use it.”

Tooru didn’t really care where the language came from, he just wanted to understand what everyone was saying around him. So he set himself to learning it, begging Koushi and Daichi for help every night when their chores were finished. 

Then, on the sixteenth day, Tooru finally worked up enough courage to visit the dragons.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Hajime,” Issei called from the door of the tool shed they had been digging through. “Isn’t that your guy over there? The one you brought back with you?”

Hajime frowned and stood from his squatting position, moving to join Issei in the door. He followed the other male’s gaze to the large pen that held the older hatchlings, and, sure enough, found Tooru being shown around by Koushi and Takahiro.

“What in _e dea’s_ name is he doing here?” Hajime muttered to himself, more out of surprise than anything else.

For the entire time Tooru had been here, he’d kept himself far from the dragon enclosures. Probably out of shock or fear or something. And though Hajime knew the hesitance would wear off at some point in time, he somehow never connected that fact to the idea that Tooru would then visit the dragons. Which was ridiculous, really, but it didn’t keep him from being surprised by seeing Tooru carefully approach the small hatchlings.

“He’s a real natural, isn’t he?” Issei snorted when the young dragons Tooru had been inching towards scampered off across the pen, out of Tooru’s reach.

Hajime grunted in answer.

Truthfully, Tooru wasn’t doing anything wrong that Hajime could see. He had walked slowly towards the dragons, holding his arms slightly out to the side with his palms up to show he wasn’t a threat, and , as far as Hajime could tell, he’d held eye contact with the hatchling, just as he was supposed to. There was no reason for the hatchlings, who were usually so sociable, to have run away as they did. At least not outwardly.

Hajime sighed. “I’ll go help him out,” he said as he pushed past Issei, walking across the clearing to the hatchling pen. He vaulted over the short fence, and then marched straight to Tooru’s side as he called out, “Oi! You’re scaring them all off!”

Tooru looked his way with a tiny frown. “Not on purpose.”

“I know,” he assured quickly. “But you’re still doing it. They’re all keeping their distance, you see?”

He gestured towards all the hatchlings that had shied away from Tooru during their exchange, forming a sort of bubble of space that none of the dragons dared to cross. Not for Tooru, at least. The hatchlings were happily crowding around both Takahiro and Koushi without any sort of hesitation, which meant that, whatever the problem was, it had to do with Tooru himself.

“You have to be gentle—”

“I was!”

Hajime shook his head. “I don’t mean outwardly gentle,” he clarified over Tooru’s subtle frustration. “You approached them just fine earlier, but there’s more to this than that.”

There was something _inside_ of Tooru that was keeping all the hatchlings at bay. Something they sensed that made them wary of approaching this specific human.

It was a concept Hajime had never really had to explain in words before, and never to someone with as little experience with dragons as Tooru. He glanced about for a second, trying to think of how best to explain it, then pulled Tooru with him to the other side of the pen where a small group of hatchlings were gathered, separate from the rest of the group.

Letting go of Tooru’s arm, he walked cautiously towards them as he explained, “Dragons are sensitive creatures. They can pick up on even the slightest changes of mood. When you approach them, especially the young ones, you have to be gentle in both action and spirit to show you mean no harm.”

There was a soft hum of acknowledgment behind him, but Hajime ignored that in favor of catching the gaze of one of the hatchlings. It took no more than moment, and then only a few seconds more for the dragon to approach and nuzzle into his hand. Its scales were no more than tiny pricks beneath soft feather down against his skin, and Hajime stroked down it’s spine from head to tail, feeling the tiny ridge of spikes that was beginning to form. This one would start to mature soon, so it was probably less influenced by its senses than the younger hatchlings were.

Hajime looked back at Tooru and jerked his head in an invitation.

The other male hesitated, then knelt down at Hajime’s side. Even without saying anything, Hajime could tell from Tooru’s tense shoulders he was nervous. The hatchling could tell too, and recoiled slightly. Only Hajime’s steady presence and their mutual trust kept the young dragon by Hajime’s side long enough for Hajime to take Tooru’s hand and press it slowly, deliberately, to the very tip of the hatchling’s snout.

Both Tooru and the dragon froze. Then, the hatchling pressed more into Tooru’s hand, and Tooru completely melted.

Hajime smiled and ruffled the other male’s hair. “See? Not so hard,” he said, gesturing at the other dragons from the group that were now starting to approach, drawn to Tooru’s simple happiness. “You just have to be calm.”

“Easier said than done.”

For Tooru? Yeah, Hajime supposed it was.

Considering all Tooru had lived through up to this point, based off the little Hajime actually knew of him, Hajime wasn’t surprised by that statement at all. There was sure to be a lot of hurt inside of Tooru, maybe a lot of bloodlust and vengeance towards the king as well. All of which that dragons would be able to pick up on through their senses alone, if not by the slightly haunted look in Tooru’s eyes. And while the matured dragons wouldn’t entirely be wary of Tooru’s emotions, the hatchlings most definitely were until Tooru’s curiosity and excitement overpowered those senses.

Those darker emotions inside of Tooru… they could be toxic if left to fester. Or they could become Tooru’s greatest strength. But only if Tooru himself had the strength to face them.

 _E dea, be with me_ , Hajime thought, watching Tooru interact with the young hatchlings with a small frown and a tight knot in his stomach. _Help me to help this boy._

 

* * *

 

Hajime wasn’t kidding when he told Tooru to approach the hatchlings with a calm spirit.

Over the following weeks, Tooru made a habit of visiting the dragon enclosures, if for no other reason to than to watch the creatures in their natural habitats and reconcile his earlier assumptions about their existence with the reality now sitting before him. Mostly, though, Tooru spent his time in the hatchling pen, usually under the supervision of Takahiro, the dragon tamer Koushi had introduced him to during that first visit, if Hajime wasn’t around to keep an eye on him. And Tooru learned very quickly just how sensitive the young dragons were to his turbulent thoughts.

The older hatchlings— the ones near maturity, with their feather down giving way to tiny scales and spiked spines as Hajime had shown him— weren’t nearly as affected. They were wary at first, of course, but sooner or later they ventured curiously towards Tooru when they saw he wouldn’t hurt them, despite what they may have sensed in him. But the true hatchlings, the dragons that were just barely old enough to leave their nesting mothers, kept far away from Tooru. Any time he tried to approach, they’d scurry as far from him as possible and then curl up defensively, as if Tooru was a deadly threat. Tooru soon stopped trying.

He hadn’t been kidding either when he told Hajime that keeping calm was easier said than done. Tooru knew exactly which thoughts and feelings kept the hatchlings at bay, but they weren’t emotions Tooru could easily push away, and they only grew stronger, more consuming, as Tooru settled into the village.

The thing about settling down, Tooru found, was that it allowed him to become complacent, comfortable, and then his mind started lowering the mental barriers he’d constructed to let all the ghosts he carried back into his thoughts. He’d experienced it first in Wakutani a few months after being chased from the palace, and then again in Dateko half a year later when he finally stopped running for a bit. But at least with Dateko, Tooru had managed to keep himself distracted from the thoughts by working himself to exhaustion in the mines. This village didn’t offer such an escape. Not one that Tooru had found thus far, that was.

He tossed and turned in his bedroll, feeling restless, far too keyed up from his own thoughts to even consider falling asleep. Across the tent, Hajime slept peacefully, his heavy, deep breathing and occasional snore muffled by the arm he’d thrown over his face in his slumber.

He had no trouble drifting off at night. Tooru envied that ability of his. It had been near two weeks since Tooru himself had gotten enough sleep to actually feel rested during the day, but there wasn’t much Tooru could do to fix that. Not when he saw images of his father’s sinister grin, and towns up in flames, and the palace guards chasing after him through a moonlit forest whenever he closed his eyes. The memories paralyzed him with fear, but also filled him with rage and a need for vengeance, and every day those feelings grew stronger and stronger, no matter how much Tooru tried to keep calm.

Letting out a slow breath, he rubbed his eyes and sat up. He’d find no sleep tonight, restless as he was. Better to head outside where he could at least stretch out his legs and look up at the stars and pretend that everything was alright.

The cold air bit at his skin the second he left the warm protection of his and Hajime’s shared tent. He sucked in a sharp breath, frigid air piercing through his lungs and burning his throat, then let it back out in a stream of white mist as he pulled his cloak snugly about his shivering frame.

The whole camp was illuminated by a thin sliver of moonlight, though the stars and moon were mostly hidden behind the low-hanging clouds that spilled over the mountaintops and into the valley their village occupied. Instead of stars, Tooru was greeted by the soft fall of new snow, fluttering down in delicate flakes to cling to Tooru’s hair and shoulders. He didn’t bother to brush it off as he sat down by one of the communal fire pits and stared into its still-glowing embers.

For a second, he considered building up a fire, but what was the point? He was warm enough in his cloak at present, and he could see just fine, even in the scant bit of moonlight. He preferred the darkness right now anyways. It was almost soothing. Like a giant blanket for his restless thoughts.

He was just… well, impatient wasn’t the right word, but it was the closest Tooru could get to how he felt. Or anxious. Definitely frustrated.

Tooru had come East in search of help to reclaim his throne, and he’d thought he’d found it here, in this village. But he’d been here for over a month now and still hadn’t heard any plan or seen any preparations being made. And while the logical side of his mind accepted this as natural, arguing that the elders were just making sure he could be trusted before putting the lives of these people on the line, the part of his mind that remembered his mother’s murder and the attempt on his own life was crying out for action. Any kind of action.

He hated just sitting here, unable to do anything while his rightful place was usurped by some undeserving, little snot.

“You should have at least brought a blanket if you were just going to sit out here,” Hajime said from behind him. Tooru quickly spun around and stared in surprise at Hajime, whose lips quirked up a little in bemusement. “You aren’t as quiet as you may think.”

Tooru blinked, then pressed his lips together. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turning back to the fire pit while Hajime knelt beside him.

His presence at Tooru’s side was steady, warm, unimposing. In silence, Hajime laid out kindling and logs and sparked a fire to life. It took a moment for the flame to catch, but soon the flames were crackling brightly in the darkness of the early morning. Heat washed over Tooru, warming him straight down to the tips of his toes, and tension fell from his shoulders. In the light of the fire, he somehow felt more at ease, more secure, all the shadowy thoughts that had been tormenting him chased back to the corners of his mind for the time being.

Hajime pulled his knees towards his chest, staring into the fire as he sat silently beside Tooru, who was both grateful and uncomfortable with his lack of prying.

He knew Hajime wasn’t expecting anything that Tooru was unwilling to share. Curious, probably, and even hopeful, but not expectant, because that’s just the type of person Hajime was. He never expected; he observed and corrected and pushed people when necessary, but when someone really needed some space, he gave it to them, even when it meant picking up their slack in chores so they could have an hour or two to themselves. It had surprised Tooru the first time he saw this, when one of the other dragon tamers— Shinji, he believed the name was— had shown up to the enclosures so frustrated that even the mature dragons shied away, and Hajime simply took the feed bag, gave Shinji a look, and then went about taking care of the dragons on his own while Shinji let out some steam. Hajime never said a single word, never asked for an explanation, even when Shinji returned. But this, Tooru learned, was typical.

It felt odd to be on the receiving end of that patience now. Far from being reassured or comforted like all the other souls Hajime felt duty-bound to help, Tooru just felt more restless. Words were forming on the tip of his tongue, pushing to get out, wanting to explain. He just felt like he needed to say something. To fill the silence between them.

“You haven’t been sleeping well recently,” Hajime said before Tooru had a chance. Almost as if sensing Tooru’s need to actually talk. Tooru wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

“Can’t.” Tooru rubbed a hand over his face. “Too many thoughts. I apologize for waking you up.”

Hajime shook his head and waved the apology away like it was no big deal. Still, Tooru felt a little guilty. Hajime started his days at the crack of dawn and didn’t return until late; he didn’t need Tooru’s restlessness keeping him awake half the night on top of everything else.

Tooru sighed. “It’s just… memories,” he said, fiddling with his mother’s pendant. “Everything about this place reminds of my past.”

Or rather, what his past wasn’t. What he wished it had been. And not just because of the dragons, but because of the strong sense of community that filled the whole village, even for an outsider like Tooru. With the elders’ approval, he’d been welcomed into community as one of their own. It was a new feeling for Tooru.

His hand started to shake and he closed it tightly over the pendant, pressing the smooth crystal almost painfully into his skin. His throat felt tight, and he was having trouble swallowing, because this, he realized, this whole community thing was what life was supposed to be like. It’s what his mother wanted him to have before she died. The care and camaraderie and constant support from everyone around him without any sort of expectation or demands. Not the isolation he’d had to grow up with. Or the constant competition he was forced into with his father’s advisers, and later with Tobio. And now that Tooru knew, it only made his frustration worse.

“My father never liked me,” he spat, still clutching his mother’s pendant and glaring into the fire before him. “He thought I was too weak to manage the kingdom, that I’d run it into the ground after he died. He told me so every chance he got, especially after my mother died. Or well, was murdered.” He smiled wryly and cocked his head in Hajime’s direction. “Didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but it’s pretty obvious looking back. He tried to poison me too, after all.”

Hajime let out a long, slow breath. “He really tried to kill you?” he asked, seeming so shocked that Tooru could only bark out a pained laugh.

“You don’t know the half of it, Hajime.” He pulled his cloak tighter, as if shielding himself from more than just the cold, and added with a bitter smile, “I was quite the disappointment to my father, you see. Took too much after my mother. So when some old friend of his asked him to take in his son as a ward, my father couldn’t have been happier, because he’d finally gotten the son he’d always wanted.”

Tooru shook his head, remembering the years after his father had taken Tobio in. The boy could do no wrong in his father’s eyes. Practically perfect in every way that counted, which didn’t include his ability to get along with the soldiers under his command, or his eloquence as a speaker, or his knowledge about the lives of their citizens. No. None of that mattered. It only mattered how brilliant a swordsman and tactician Tobio was, how ruthless on the battlefield, how demanding and fearsome he was towards the men he commanded.

_It’s far better to be feared than loved, Tooru. Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t you be more like Tobio?_

He didn’t realize how much he’d been shaking until he felt Hajime place a hand on his back. Not trying to soothe him, or offer comfort, but just resting there. As if reminding Tooru he wasn’t alone.

Tooru closed his eyes, then exhaled.

“I keep remembering the night I left,” he finally admitted, voice soft, and a little unsure. Vulnerable. “It was my eighteenth birthday. Father had thrown a large party with all sorts of festivities and food. And he’d… he’d spiked my drink. He meant for me to get drunk so that… so when I was off on the ritual midnight hunt, the guards would have an easy time taking care of me and making it look like an accident. And it would have worked if Keiji hadn’t advised me not to drink anything. I wouldn’t have noticed when the guards…”

He choked, and bowed his head forward, unable to continue speaking. It was too painful to remember. His death had been so near; he’d truly been lucky to get away.

The fire crackled as he and Hajime sat there, the only sound in the heavy silence between them. And then—

_“Zeh viht juhlan.”_

Tooru laughed. “Did you really just call my father a bastard?”

The corners of Hajime’s lips quirked up the tiniest bit as Tooru laughed, and he nodded, completely unashamed. Tooru had never heard anyone speak so bluntly or decisively about his father in that way; it was refreshing, and lifted Tooru’s spirit more than he had expected. It almost made everything he’d just confessed easier to bear, in a way. As if, by speaking about it, the weight on his shoulders had suddenly grown lighter.

Unconsciously, Tooru leaned into Hajime, who just shifted to wrap his arm around Tooru’s shoulders in a sort of half-hug, wordlessly offering his strength. And that meant a lot to Tooru, who had been without that kind of support since his mother’s death, and was so tired of carrying the burden of his memories and his father’s tyranny all on his own.

“What that man did to you is unforgivable, and he should be brought to justice,” Hajime murmured. “But it’s in the past now. You’re here. You can do something to fix it, for everyone involved. And you’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” Tooru sighed, letting himself relax into Hajime’s comforting embrace and let go of his pain for the moment.

Not that he wasn’t still haunted by the memories. Those years of his life would never be forgotten or truly healed, even after he’d taken the throne and fixed everything his father had destroyed. Tooru knew that. But Hajime was also right about something.

For the first time, Tooru wasn’t alone.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, where are you taking me?” Tooru asked as Hajime led him through the normal dragon enclosures to a special one right at the very edge of the valley.

“You’ll see,” he answered simply, the same way he had the entire morning after snagging Tooru from his normal chores. “I have something to show you.”

Tooru huffed behind him, and Hajime could almost feel his petulant stare boring into his back, but Hajime offered nothing else in answer. No clues as to where Hajime was leading. Even though Tooru wouldn’t have been able to figure it out even if Hajime had told him.

It wasn’t often that Hajime allowed anyone back into the enclosure they were heading towards. It was a pen normally kept off limits to anyone except the actual dragon tamers, who knew just how to handle the delicate natures of the dragons within it. Even the dragon riders, who had free reign over all the rest of the areas, weren’t permitted in this area unless accompanied by one of the tamers, like Hajime himself, who could control the situation and make sure nothing went array, just in case.

Truthfully, Hajime shouldn’t have even considered bringing Tooru back this way. At least not until he had his own emotions under control, where they wouldn’t influence any of the dragons. But, after what Tooru had told him a few nights earlier, he knew Tooru needed to see this. He _wanted_ Tooru to see this. Even if it was for only ten minutes.

He led Tooru around the edge of the enclosure, towards the very back where a certain dragon was nesting, her dark red scales making it easy for Hajime to find her. He’d picked her out specifically the other day while creating his plan because she was the least likely to react to Tooru’s still-turbulent emotions while Hajime was there. And that made her ideal for this, though he’d still have to keep a careful eye in case she became agitated and territorial, which was a very real possibility.

“Move slowly, and try to stay calm,” he advised Tooru as they approached the dragon. She lifted her head for a moment, watching them with large, golden eyes, and then tucked it beneath her folded wing once more, seeming to find them no threat, even as they got closer to the nest.

They were close enough, in fact, for Tooru to finally see what Hajime had been intending, and he heard Tooru catch his breath at the sight.

“Is that—?”

“A dragon egg,” Hajime confirmed.

Within the nest the dragon had curled around, there was a single egg, only four months old. It would take another six months before the egg was anywhere near ready to hatch, but already the baby dragon had begun to take form inside of the bright orange egg, and its development was moving along steadily judging by the heat warming Hajime’s palms where he placed them on the shell.

A whole new life just starting to take shape. A new future. Hajime smiled at the thought.

He glanced up at Tooru, who was still standing in shock at the edge of the nest, and laughed softly. “You can get closer. It won’t bite you.”

“Maybe the _egg_ won’t,” Tooru muttered, glancing warily at the dragon as she continued to nap. Hajime smiled wider.

“She won’t either, as long as you’re careful. She knows I wouldn’t let you harm her baby.”

“So confident in your own abilities,” Tooru quipped, but inched towards the nest even so, until he was kneeling at the nest’s edge right across from Hajime. His large eyes were fixed on the egg, focused from his caution. Hesitantly, he stretched out a hand, letting his fingers brush over the shell first before pressing down completely with his palm. His mouth dropped open in wonder. “It’s so warm.”

Hajime chuckled. “Well, there _is_ a fire-breathing dragon growing inside of it.” Tooru’s nose scrunched, and he glared up at Hajime, who only grinned in response. “Here,” he said, reaching across to take Tooru’s hands and guide them to a certain spot along the side of the egg, right as there was a tiny tap from inside the shell. “Feel that?”

“Did… did the dragon just move?”

Hajime nodded and watched Tooru completely light up when yet another tiny tap came through the shell. Hesitation vanishing, Tooru spread his hands over the egg and bent close, expression shining in awe. He became engulfed in the experience. Lost himself to the joy of new creation, just as Hajime always did whenever a new egg joined their ranks. But it was probably even more incredible for Tooru, who hadn’t grown up around dragons like Hajime had. He’d spent his whole life believing, like the rest of the kingdom, that the dragons had all been killed, yet here was a new dragon being brought to life beneath his own two hands. Proof that the dragons continued on.

Life kept moving forward. Even for the most damaged of creatures.

Hajime sat back on his heels and observed the man before him, privately reflecting that his choice to bring Tooru here had been a good one. There were dark bags beneath Tooru’s eyes, and his skin was a shade paler than it really should have been, but with the egg in front of him those sorts of things really didn’t matter. All the shadows he’d carried around, the heaviness that dragged down his shoulders, and the darkness that had been in his eyes a few nights ago— all of that was gone now, overshadowed by his childlike wonder. Like Tooru was a different person entirely. He radiated joy so brightly that Hajime almost couldn’t look at him.

“How do you call the hatchlings in Ahmsahi?” Tooru asked. He didn’t even look away from the egg as he spoke.

“ _Dayan_.” Standing up, Hajime smiled. “We call them  _dayan_.”

The word seemed to catch Tooru’s attention, judging by the slight jolt in his posture. His fingers stilled, just resting against the shell of the dragon egg instead of tracing its surface, and his eyes almost seemed to take on a glaze, like he was remembering something. But something nice this time, instead of dark, and his lips curved into the fondest of smiles.

Hajime’s heart jumped.

He recognized that expression, that sense of connection between a person the realm of dragons. Not everyone experienced it, even within this village itself, because it took something special to draw a person so close to that otherworld. Something innate had to click into place, like the gears of a clock, in order for the connection to work. And Tooru probably didn’t recognize it at all, but Hajime did. He knew it all too well.

Maybe— just maybe— this was what Tooru had needed all along.

“Tooru,” Hajime ventured, still mulling over the idea in his head. Tooru looked up at him, large eyes clear and curious, and Hajime came to a decision. “I’m going to teach you to be a dragon rider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised translations in the last chapter, so here you go
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Chapter 1:  
> Dayan- hatchling/also an affectionate term for a child  
> Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol - May your flight be blessed  
> Ahn bremayoht/Brehms- Greetings  
> Sci vihtenyohn chim?- How was your journey?  
> Nufiyahn- Tiring  
> Yan viht zeh?- Who is he?  
> Di rahnaya- the Crown Prince  
> Devanan vahn nahga- Land of dragons
> 
> Chapter 2:  
> devayan - leader/elder  
> Locht bretanyoht zeh? - do you trust him?  
> Veh. Bretanahn zeh.- Yes. I trust him.  
> e dea- god/deity/power of universe  
> Zeh viht juhlan.- He's a bastard  
> Dayan - hatchling/child


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a bracing squeeze. “Man, you have it bad,” he muttered, and Hajime could actually hear the pity dripping thickly from each word. 
> 
> Hajime groaned again, but he couldn’t even deny it. 
> 
> And that was the worst part.

  
“Remember what we talked about,” Hajime said as he helped Tooru into the saddle of his dragon— a mild-tempered greyling of about ten years of age. She watched Tooru warily with her bright green eyes, but didn’t so much as flinch away from the prince’s touch, as the younger dragons often did. She was a good match for Tooru’s first attempt at flying. At least for the moment. “Let her lead. Thehtayan knows what she’s doing. All you need to focus on is feeling the connection with her.”

Tooru smiled and adjusted his dragon-hide gloves— the gloves he’d borrowed from Hajime specifically for this occasion.

“Stop being such a mom,” he said, voice teasing. His feet slipped into the stirrup notches on either side of the dragon saddle and he grabbed the leather reins from Hajime’s hand. “We’ve gone over this a million times. I’m not going to do anything I shouldn’t, I swear.”

The gloves, too small for Tooru’s long fingers, slipped down his hands as he curled his fingers around the reins, revealing the creamy skin of his slender wrists. Hajime looked at this and pressed his lips together.

Actually, most of the protective gear Tooru was currently wearing had been borrowed from Hajime, and the ill fit of it was as obvious as the sun in the sky on a cloudless day. The gloves, the too-short and too-baggy leather pants, the dragon-hide leg braces and arm braces and shoulder pads that were meant to protect Tooru from the chaffing of dragon scales but hung too loosely on his slight frame to be of any use.

Hajime had never really noticed the differences in his and Tooru’s physiques before this. Somehow, Tooru had always seemed stronger than he actually was. Not that he wasn’t physically strong, because he definitely was. All those years of military training in the capital, and those long days of mining in Dateko clearly showed whenever Tooru helped with a particularly arduous task, the tight, lean muscles of his arms and legs displayed for all to see. And, having shared a tent and all that entailed with Tooru for near four months now, Hajime had been witness to toned expanses of his chest and back multiple times.

Tooru wasn’t weak by any means, he just wasn’t as… well, as _bulky_ as Hajime was. And that was creating a problem with the gear.

He quietly huffed. They’d just have to make do for now. He’d take Tooru to get his own gear made as soon as this attempt at flying was over with.

“Knowing you,” he retorted, “I don’t take much stock in that promise.”

_“Rude.”_

With a haughty sniff, Tooru turned his face away and lifted his nose in the air, imperious as only a prince could be. His reaction made Thehtayan shake her head and huff out a large cloud of smoke right at Tooru, who coughed so hard he nearly fell from his mount. Seeing this, Hajime’s lips twitched into a tiny grin.

“Just make it easier on us both and do as I say, _ehkert_.”

Tooru glowered down at him. “Stop calling me a dumbass, you… you…”

“ _Ehkert_?” Hajime offered with a cheeky grin, relishing the frustrated garble of noise that came from Tooru’s mouth. Getting on Tooru’s nerves was just too easy, really, and way too enjoyable. His grin widened as he walked closer, stepping right up to Thehtayan’s side, and placed a hand on Tooru’s calf, which sat right in front of his face. He glanced up at Tooru from under his lashes. “Would you rather I call you _dami_?”

Tooru’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds rude, so no.”

Hajime chuckled to himself. “Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s just get you into the air. It’s about time you started actually flying.”

Tooru nodded in agreement, straightening up eagerly in the saddle. They’d been talking over the basics of being a dragon rider and all it included for almost two months, and Hajime really couldn’t blame Tooru for his excitement over flying. He’d been the exact same way when he’d started training a few years back, before he’d bonded with Thehtayan as her rider.

He smoothed a hand down her side, the sharp edges of her grey scales scratching against the bandage he’d wrapped around his right palm, and then checked the saddle once more to make sure everything was in place, secure, and comfortable for both Thehtayan and Tooru. There’d be no point in this attempt if Tooru just got thrown from his mount due to a faulty saddle. But, mercifully, everything was as it should be, and all that was left was for Tooru to pick up on that connection shared between dragons and riders.

Even with how close they’d become over the past weeks, Hajime couldn’t really help him with that.

“Just be careful,” he said to Tooru, who rolled his eyes until Hajime grabbed his leg once more and drew his attention down. “I mean it, Tooru.”

Tooru grinned. “Worried about me, Hajime?”

“Can’t let you get hurt,” he answered with a shrug, as if totally unconcerned by his friend’s safety. “The elders would have my head. And I’m not really interested in dying yet.”

“Harsh,” Tooru commented, laughing. Hajime’s lips curled up in satisfaction the way they always did whenever Tooru laughed these days. With his face lit up in amusement, it was difficult to see the broken prince that Hajime had spoken with by the fire those two months before. Tooru’s eyes now sparkled down at him, full of mirth. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you keep that head of yours.”

“Much appreciated.”

He inclined his head toward Tooru, then took a step back, knowing that, despite the teasing tone, Tooru’s assurance was completely serious. It assuaged the little hint of worry inside Hajime that Tooru might not be ready or might not understand the risks involved in flying, even though Hajime knew he did. They had discussed it often enough for Tooru to be aware of what he needed to do. And he knew Thehtayan wouldn’t let any harm come to Tooru in any case. She was more experienced in these matters than either of them.

Thehtayan unfurled her wings and began to slowly beat them, stirring up the dirt and pebbles all around them with the wind of her movements. Hajime lifted an arm to cover his face. Through narrowed eyes, he watched how Tooru adjusted in the saddle to Thehtayan’s shifting, his form just as graceful and regal as when he was riding his horse, though with slightly less confidence. Tooru, physically, was a natural though, his body reacting to every minuscule movement the dragon made until, finally, Thehtayan’s talons had lifted into the sky to hover safely over the rocky ground.

The two didn’t fly too high, conscious of both Tooru’s inexperience and the need to keep low while the sun still hung high in the sky. Only at night, when they didn’t risk being spotted by any of the villages right outside of the mountains, could the dragons fly higher than a few feet. Not that Tooru was anywhere near ready for that. He’d need at least a few weeks more practice before he could even consider venturing out of the safe-fly zone, if not even more time.

Which he would probably need, Hajime concluded as he saw the trouble Tooru was having in leading Thehtayan.

There was something… off in the way Tooru and Thehtayan were interacting. Something wasn’t quite coming together in terms of their connection, though, from what Hajime could see, Tooru was trying his utmost to find that little thread of awareness that linked the movements of dragons and their riders. It wasn’t working though. That much was clear. Thehtayan, who was so used to Hajime’s presence in their link now, was growing restless and unsure. Her nostrils flared, small streams of smoke pouring out with every breath, and her tail swished in agitation. Only a moment longer, and then Thehtayan and Tooru were back on the ground, their first flight a failure.

A second attempt fared no better. Nor did a third. Or a fourth.

By the seventh attempt, Tooru was more than frustrated. His brows were furrowed together, forming deep, worried creases across his forehead, and Hajime could just see his focus wavering due to his anxiety and exasperation and disappointment. It was time to get Tooru away from the dragons before he pushed himself into a situation that’d only end up hurting him. That wouldn’t turn out well for anyone.

“It’s okay,” Hajime told Tooru as he undid the saddle and pulled it off Thehtayan’s back. “Hardly anyone gets it right on the first day. You’ll get there eventually.”

“Yeah,” Tooru muttered, right before he let out a deep sigh. Hajime glanced over his shoulder, watching as Tooru pulled the bracers from his arms and legs and shoulders. He kept his head bowed, hair falling across his face and casting deep shadows over his expression in the fading light of the setting sun. “Eventually. You’re right.”

Even as he said it though, he didn’t look convinced.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Hajime had said. Eventually, with more practice, with more experience, Tooru would be able to make that connection and stay in the air for more than a few minutes at a time, and Tooru firmly believed in that. But it just seemed the more he tried, the more impossible it became, and, after several weeks of trying, Tooru was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a dragon rider at all. He just didn’t know what else he could do.

Oh, he knew the theory behind it all, to be sure. He and Hajime had discussed that many times at length— probably more than was truly necessary, if Tooru really thought about it. He knew that the link between rider and dragon was less of an actual mental connection and more of a spiritual acknowledgment between two partners which made everything just a little bit clearer, made it easier to recognize and understand how they needed to move together in order to reach their destination. The theory of it was deceptively simple; putting that theory into practice was where Tooru fell apart.

It was frustrating, really. Every time he rode Thehtayan, Tooru could feel her presence right there with him, reaching out to him, and yet, no matter what he did, Tooru couldn’t get his own spirit to respond. He’d tried everything he could think of, but that connection he’d been aiming for, that acknowledgment, slipped right through his fingers like water every time. Nothing worked.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he complained to Takahiro and Issei, two of the dragon riders he’d recently become close to. Tooru flopped dramatically over one of the dragon saddles he’d been helping polish and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I just can’t get the hang of it. It doesn’t feel right.”

Takahiro, who’d been restitching a few of the old leather bridles, stopped his work to lean against the wood half-partition which cut across the middle of the tack room, and asked, “What do you mean?”

Tooru sighed. “I can’t… explain it. There’s just something off about it. Something I can’t grasp. Like there’s a missing link or something.”

A missing link. That’s the only way Tooru could describe it. Something that should be present within his connection with the dragons and wasn’t, or maybe something that was out of place. Though Tooru had no idea what it could be.

“I think,” Issei said beside him, still scrubbing at the saddle they’d been working on, “you’re thinking too hard. You need to take a break. Relax a little.”

Takahiro nodded. “Yeah. You’re so tense.”

“But—”

“Thehtayan and Hajime aren’t going anywhere. A break would do you all some good,” he continued, ignoring the protest that had been forming on Tooru’s tongue. He waved a single, gloved hand in the air, as if brushing away Tooru’s unspoken words, and grinned. And when Tooru looked over at Issei, who’d finally stood and was wiping his polish covered hands on a clean rag, he saw a similarly smug expression across his face.

“Actually, isn’t Hajime going to the village feast tonight?” Issei asked.

“Oh, that’s true!” Takahiro exclaimed. He looked back at Tooru, grin turning smug and crooked. “Tooru, you should go too.”

“I don’t know…”

Hopping over the half-partition, Takahiro walked over and threw an arm around Tooru’s shoulder. “Come with us,” he insisted. “We’ll protect you from the big, bad villagers.”

“It’s not like you have anything better to do,” Issei added, while Takahiro fervently nodded.

“Plus, Hajime will be there.”

Rolling his eyes, Tooru muttered, “As if I won’t see him tonight anyways.”

That was the benefit of sharing a tent; he always got to end the day by talking with Hajime, whose quiet demeanor and steady focus helped calm the constantly churning thoughts in his mind long enough for him to fall asleep. Though he had to admit the monthly village feasts were often an exception to this pattern, just because Hajime returned so late there was little point in waiting up for him. Most of the time, Tooru wasn’t even awake to see him return— he’d just find Hajime dead asleep on the other side of the tent by the time he got up the next morning.

It made him curious though. He’d never gone to one of the village feasts, having always felt unwelcome as an outsider, but Hajime generally wasn’t the type to stay out late or sleep in past sunrise, so it made him wonder what the feasts were actually like. What was it that kept Hajime’s attention fixated long into the night month after month after month?

He considered it for a moment, drumming his fingers against the stiff, leather saddle, and then finally asked, “If I come with you guys, do you swear not to abandon me in the crowd?”

Takahiro and Issei both gave him smug smirks that he took to mean ‘yes.’

 

* * *

 

Tooru was a little apprehensive as he followed Takahiro and Issei into the village crowd later that night.

He didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. While he’d been a part of the community for near four or five months now and had made plenty of friends, there was always that lingering sense that he was an outsider here and would be treated as such by the village at large. The elders certainly hadn’t helped with that. They watched his movements like hawks whenever he was in their eyesight, as if he still wasn’t to be trusted, and more often than not that wariness bled into the community whenever they were around. But the only thing Tooru could do about that was to hold his chin up high, plaster on a charming smile, and continue moving forward— a coping mechanism he’d picked up years before while still living in the toxic environment of his father’s court. A method he employed now while weaving through the crowd.

But his smile softened a bit into something more genuine when he noticed how the majority of villagers— chatting, laughing, sharing food and stories with one another— barely paid him any mind. They did not register the presence of their kingdom’s rightful crown prince in the crowd, did not greet him or welcome him into their gathering, but neither did they reject him, which was what Tooru had been most afraid of.

The villagers were too caught up in the excitement of the feast to take notice of him. Several large bonfires had already been built and lit within the giant clearing, and they now helped the setting sun to fill the area with a strong, red glow. Tooru could faintly hear the lilting notes of an eastern fiddle somewhere along the edge of the crowd, though it was almost drowned out by the voices and laughter of the crowd. But most prominent of all was the smell of roasting meat that saturated the air around them.

“Our main course,” Takahiro said, pointing at the racks of deer being roasted over large cooking fires. “Pretty sure Hajime killed about half of them himself.”

“He hunts?” Tooru asked.

“That bow and arrows of his aren’t just for show, you know.”

He frowned, unable to picture it, though he knew it to be true. There was no way Hajime could survive in the wild as rangers did without great skill as a hunter. But, somehow, he was unable to wrap his mind around that fact, or reconcile the Hajime that was always so gentle around dragons with the Hajime that was clearly a ruthless hunter. He’d known Hajime within the village for far too long. Had forgotten just how dangerous Hajime could truly be. And Tooru couldn’t figure out which side of Hajime he admired more.

He shook his head and continued following after Takahiro and Issei, who were waxing poetic over the spread of food the village cooks had provided. Even Tooru could feel his mouth watering from the descriptions they gave. It had been such a long time since he’d been able to sample cooking more palatable than his own— which, admittedly, wasn’t very good in the first place. So having the chance to enjoy an actual feast for the first time in years pushed everything else out of his mind, and he lost himself to the rich flavors of tender meat and eastern spices.

There wasn’t a scrap of food left by the time the sun had set, everyone having eaten their fill.

Tooru was beyond full. He didn’t think he ever wanted to move from where he lay, spread out across the ground with both Issei and Takahiro’s heads pillowed on his stomach, even though the ground beneath him was nothing short of rocky and uncomfortable. The sky above was rather beautiful though. Stars twinkling in the vast, velvet landscape of the night sky, obscured only by the wafting smoke of the various bonfires around them. It made him want to stay there forever, staring into the heavens.

No kingdom. No dragon. No personal missions. Just stars. Endless multitudes of stars.

A fiddle struck up somewhere behind him. Its mellow notes swayed together in an upbeat cadence that was soon joined by the rich beats of an eastern bodhran and excited laughter from many of the villagers around him. Many jumped to their feet, and Tooru tilted his head back to watch— upside down— as they formed a large circle on the vacant ground in between the main bonfires. There were a few moments of disorganization, but then the villagers pulled together and began to move, and Tooru realized this was the start of some sort of folk dance.

He sat up, suddenly more interested, and dislodged both Takahiro and Issei from his chest as he spun around to watch. The fiddle sang cheerfully as groups of four wove around each other in perfect unison, as they hopped and spun and exchanged places, smiles beaming across every face.

This was not what Tooru was used to. The dance halls of his father’s court were more often filled with stiff waltzes and simpering smiles and the cloying overtures of nobles trying to get into either his or his father’s good graces. Tooru, of course, had learned how to waltz with the best of them. He knew how to sweep a partner across the dance hall and charm them with his grace. Knew just how to hold himself, with the proper poise and confidence expected of the kingdom’s prince. Knew every tradition and protocol demanded by court society.

None of that seemed to matter here. As the music bled into dance after dance— jigs and reels and strathspeys— Tooru noticed the distinct lack of formalities that had so often accompanied his experiences with dancing. Laughter bubbled easily to the lips of dancers, their joy and amusement never restrained or forced, but radiating genuinely through all that they did. He found it charming. Immensely so. And far more enticing than any court ballroom had ever been.

“You should just go join in if you’re that interested,” Issei quipped, noticing what had captured Tooru’s attention so completely. Tooru shook his head.

“I wouldn’t know how,” he admitted. “And anyways, I don’t really know anyone out there.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. He was pretty sure Daichi and Koushi would be out there, Hajime too perhaps, but actually finding any of them in such a crush was too much of a challenge and would ruin any sense of enjoyment Tooru would get from the dance. And, being completely new to all of these dances, Tooru just didn’t feel comfortable going out into the crowd without someone he was close with guiding him.

“You know us though,” Takahiro said, cutting through Tooru’s thoughts. He sat up just as the fiddle changed its tune, and then grinned. “Oh look. A set dance. Perfect.”

He jumped up and then, with Issei, hauled Tooru to his feet and over to the ring of dancers, all of whom had paired off into groups of three for what looked to be a spirited jig. Takahiro and Issei didn’t even give him a chance to see what exactly the dancers were doing before they were pulling him into chaos. A trial by fire, so to speak, and the two were cackling mercilessly because of it.

“I don’t know the steps,” Tooru admitted in a rush. Villagers spun around him and wove through each other in complex patterns. One woman hopped over to him with a glowing grin, clearly intent on hooking arms and spinning like everyone else, and Tooru looked over at Takahiro in a panic.

“Not knowing’s half the fun, Tooru,” he just laughed as he hooked arms with one of the dragon riders Tooru had never really met. Some kid named Hisashi, or something along those lines. “Go with the flow. Live a little.”

They didn’t get to say anything more before Tooru was whisked into the dance, being spun about between groups of dancers. The movement was fast-paced, matching the frenzy of the fiddle and bodhran, and it felt like no sooner was Tooru hooking arms with one person than he was being whisked away by yet another. It left him dizzy, slightly disoriented, then he was back with Issei and Takahiro before he realized it, being pulled forward and back and all around as they laughed at his stumbling.

With no escape, Tooru did his best to keep up and learn the steps, which took far more concentration than he’d ever had to expend with court dancing. It took several repetitions, with Takahiro dragging him through his stumbles and Issei shouting instructions over the music, for him to get the general idea of the dance. Skip forward, skip back, catch hands and sashay in a circle with the group of three to the left. The next part, Tooru was never really able to get the hang of, lost in the chaos all around him, but, incredibly, it stopped mattering somewhere after the third repetition.

Takahiro was right, for once. The craziness was part of the fun. Tooru let himself be swung about by the other dancers, laughing in exhilaration, until he was reunited with his two friends for yet another round, getting swept away by the movement and the lilting fiddle in a way he’d never known was possible.

Tooru was laughing with abandon when he suddenly came face to face with Hajime, who’d apparently taken up the dance with Daichi and Koushi from the opposite point of the circle. Tooru was so caught up in the music, however, that he barely gave Hajime a second glance as the six of them grasped hands in a small circle and spun around in perfectly-timed little hops, then wove through each other with the smooth fluidity of water. He just followed the dance until the music came to an end and all the dancers dipped into bows. Tooru followed, mimicking the village’s traditional bow of the head, with his right hand touching his heart, then between his eyes before sweeping it out in front of him. An acknowledgment with his soul and his eyes of the people in front of him.

Hajime, standing across from Tooru, grinned as they lifted their heads from the bow. “So you decided to show up this time,” he teased. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.”

“Issei and Takahiro bullied me into it.”

“Don’t blame this on us,” Takahiro said, nudging Tooru’s side with his elbow. “We merely suggested it. You’re the one that made the decision.”

“After brutally reminding me that I had nothing better to do.”

Hajime laughed, and Tooru felt heat crawl up his neck. “Well, he wasn’t wrong.”

Tooru opened his mouth to retort, but cut off as the fiddle started back up again, this time slower and in a minor key. Tooru didn’t recognize the song, but the rest of their group all turned towards the sound with large smiles on their faces while all the villagers around them, who had been talking in between the two songs, cheered and split into what looked like pairs, all of them taking spots facing each other in an inner and outer circle.

Koushi grabbed Daichi’s arm and dragged him into position, not even giving him a chance to refuse. Though Tooru highly doubted Daichi would refuse anything his partner asked of him. To Tooru’s other side, Issei offered Takahiro a dramatically gallant bow, complete with hand flourishes and all, which Takahiro returned as he took Issei’s hand and stepped into his spot in the inner circle. And that left Tooru to look over at Hajime, who offered Tooru a glove-covered hand.

“Did you want to keep dancing?” Hajime asked, jerking his head back at the circle their friends had joined. The dancing had already started, couples meeting and parting and switching places under the lilting cadence of the fiddle, and while the steps seemed easier and more familiar to Tooru than the last dance had been, he was still hesitant.

“Will you guide me?” he asked, lifting his hand to hover over Hajime’s. “I don’t really know the steps.”

Hajime offered him a crooked grin and closed his gloved fingers over Tooru’s own. “Just follow my lead.”

He pulled Tooru into the dance, waiting just long enough for the first cadence to end before slipping into the ring of dancers, placing himself in the inner circle with Tooru standing opposite him in the outer circle. Koushi and Daichi were slightly further along in the circle, while Issei and Takahiro had disappeared into the fray completely, which left Tooru completely dependent on Hajime for direction. He looked over at Hajime a bit helplessly.

“Walk towards me,” Hajime said as he himself moved forward. Tooru met him in the middle, standing almost toe to toe, then followed Hajime’s lead when he walked back into his original position. “Now towards me again, and we switch. It’s a bit like the East River Two Step. Do you know that one?”

“I think so.” They moved together to brush shoulders in the middle before turning and switching positions so that Tooru now stood across from Hajime in the inner circle. “We usually just waltzed at my father’s court. He wasn’t one for diversity.”

There was a badly hidden smile on Hajime’s face, the curl of his lips clearly visible in the orange glow of the bonfires around them, as he nodded towards the person to his right and said, “Catch hands and spin, then alternate with me in the middle.” Tooru barely had the chance to move before the person dancing diagonally to his left grabbed his left forearm and swung him around, then released him so that Hajime could catch his right forearm, laughing good-naturedly at Tooru’s surprise, and instruct, “Now the other side.”

This time, Tooru was more prepared to grab the left forearm of his partner on the right. They spun in a half-circle, and then separated to reunite with their original partners in the middle, though Tooru was caught off-guard when Hajime simultaneously spun them around in a full circle while pulling Tooru close, their linked arms pressed right in between their chests. Hajime had his free arm raised in an arch above his head.

“Put your arm up,” Hajime said, eyes darting to the hand above his head. Tooru complied and copied Hajime’s posture so their hands were close to each other, but not actually touching. “Now we two step.”

He moved forward, forcing Tooru to submit to his direction and two step backwards, which wasn’t a position he normally dealt with. As crown prince, he’d always been expected to guide his partners and direct their movements rather than the other way around. But Hajime was confident in his movements, which made it easy for Tooru to adjust and perfect, and by the time they had made a full rotation, arms slowly lowering with each step, Tooru felt much more assured in his movements than when they had begun.

He flashed Hajime a cheeky smile. “You know, usually I’m the one in the lead position.”

“Yeah, well you know jack shit about this dance, so I think I did us both a favor in this, _ehkert_ ,” he snorted, then ignored Tooru’s quiet squawk as he said, “Hands on my shoulders.”

Tooru followed his direction without protest, completely trusting Hajime’s knowledge, though he raised his eyebrows when he felt Hajime’s large, steady hands close about his waist. “What, are you going to lift me?” he asked. “You’re so small. I don’t know if you _can_.”

Hajime glowered up at him. Then, before Tooru had a chance to even prepare, Hajime tightened his grip and lifted Tooru straight into the air, spinning him around like he weighed almost nothing. Tooru was sure that, if they hadn’t been surrounded by so many people that could get hurt in the process, Hajime might have even thrown Tooru straight across the clearing, which left Tooru’s mind reeling.

“I take it back,” he muttered weakly, holding on to Hajime’s shoulders with all his strength until his feet were planted safely back on the ground. “You’re stronger than you look.”

Which was a complete lie, to be honest. Hajime’s slate blue shirt clung to the well-defined muscles of his chest and his broad back, while the rolled up sleeves left Hajime’s strong forearms on full display in the flickering light of the bonfire. His muscles flexed as he settled Tooru on the ground, tightening and relaxing, but never disappearing, showing off a strength that Tooru had never before actually noticed. A strength Hajime could wield to wrangle a dragon, or raise a building, or even end a life, if he so chose.

It was this strength he chose to withhold as he gently punched Tooru in the shoulder and said, “Damn right. You’re nothing but a twig, Your Princeliness.”

“I’ll have you know that my weight to height ratio is absolutely perfect. You’re just ridiculously strong.”

“Uh huh. Sure,” Hajime drawled with a roll of his eyes. He nudged Tooru along, getting him to sashay and turn with the rest of the dancers as the fiddle reached the cadence’s end, then directed him back into their starting positions— Hajime in the inner circle facing Tooru in the outer, ready to repeat.

Tooru didn’t hesitate in stepping forward this time. He knew the steps now, didn’t need to rely on direction to bring him through, and he confidently held Hajime’s strong gaze as they met in the middle, separated, and switched places, never breaking eye contact. Not until they both turned left to catch hands with their new partners.

He spun around easily this time, and wove past Hajime, arms brushing, to repeat the motion on the right. But his easy rhythm was broken by Hajime’s suddenly intense stare as he spun Tooru around and pulled him in close, this time clasping Tooru’s hand with his own above their heads. They were practically pressed chest to chest, with Hajime’s face tilted upwards, firelight flickering across his bronzed skin and through his dark eyes, just so he could hold Tooru’s gaze through the silence which now sat between them.

Tooru swallowed dryly as awareness of just how attractive Hajime was slammed into him with all the force of an avalanche.

It wasn’t the first time Tooru had thought this. Even back in Dateko, when Tooru had only known him as the wayward ranger, Tooru had looked at him and labeled him ‘attractive’ before they’d ever exchanged a single word. There was a sort of rugged quality in Hajime’s face, with his dark, solid features, his sharp eyes, and the little scar that cut across the corner of his lips. And, of course, there was the mystery that came with being a ranger— the aloofness which made him seem both unattainable and more desirable at the exact same time, even for someone like Tooru, who’d refused to let himself get entangled with anybody after fleeing from the capital those years before.

It was honestly a wonder that Hajime hadn’t yet been taken by anyone within the village, especially as Tooru got to see more and more of Hajime’s true personality beyond his handsome face. Of his kindness, his patience, his empathy and care. Hajime just drew people in, despite the distance he kept from anyone outside of their village. And he drew even more people to him within the village itself, attracting them like moths to a flame with his steady goodness and quiet strength that both didn’t match his rugged appearance at all and somehow also matched his appearance all too well.

Strong hands gripped his waist, and Tooru stopped thinking altogether. His hands slid across broad shoulders to cradle Hajime’s neck as Hajime lifted him once more. It was only for a short moment, just a few seconds really, but when their eyes met time seemed to stop completely. Something electric passed between them, something unexplainable. Boundless trust, a comforting presence in the dark of night, gentle words over bleeding scars, unexpected understanding: all were present in the gaze that passed between them, and Tooru couldn’t find the words to describe how it made him feel. Like his stomach had been tied in knots, but had also burst into flames like a tree in the path of a dragon. It left him breathless.

Hajime looked just as affected as Tooru felt, with his dark eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. The firelight played across his skin and glittered in the deep blue pendant that hung from Hajime’s neck— a pendant of frozen fire, burning in waves of blue and white compared to Tooru’s pendant of amber. Tooru had never seen him wear the pendant before, and his fingers stroked down the leather band it hung on as his feet touched the ground.

“Yours?” he asked of the pendant, smoothing a thumb over the sparkling crystal like a precious treasure. Hajime’s grip on his waist tightened, and he nodded.

“I only wear it for community things.”

His words were no more than a soft murmur, but Tooru could feel them blowing against his cheek, ruffling his hair and his nerves, and when his gaze lifted from the pendant between his fingers he found himself pressed almost forehead to forehead with Hajime, whose expression had softened like the melody of the fiddle into something warm and tender. Almost fond, dare he say.

Involuntarily, Tooru glanced down at Hajime’s parted lips, and then back at his now-smoldering eyes. They were close, so close. All it would take was one tiny movement, only the slightest shift forwards, for Tooru to lean down and take Hajime’s lips for his own. And it was a sudden feeling, one he’d never applied towards Hajime except in the most fleeting of thoughts, and one that could certainly make things weird between them for a very long time if Tooru actually followed through, but it was strong and persistent, unlike any desire he’d ever felt before. And, under the influence of the stars and the fire and the music, it was all Tooru truly wanted at that very moment.

The change in fiddle broke the magic between them. As the tempo picked up, shifting into yet another dance of a more upbeat nature, Tooru and Hajime both seemed to come to their senses and they stepped away from each at the exact same time, feeling sheepish and flustered. At least, in Tooru’s case.

He glanced quickly at Hajime, who was rubbing the back of his neck. It was hard to tell in the firelight, but he almost seemed flushed, his cheeks and neck colored with just the slightest hint of red. And seeing that only made Tooru more self-conscious as heat bloomed within his own cheeks.

“I’m not used to dancing so much any more. I think I’ll go sit down now,” he said. It was a poor excuse, given how easy dancing was compared to the work he did within the village every day, but it was all Tooru could think of with his state of mind.

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed, just a little breathless. He seemed to be looking anywhere except at Tooru. “Yeah. I need to get some air. Walk a bit.”

“Oh,” Tooru breathed. “Right. Yeah. I guess… I guess I’ll just see you later tonight then?”

“Sure.”

But Hajime sounded so distracted that Tooru doubted they’d run into each other again before it was time to turn in for the night, if Hajime even returned to their shared tent at all. The tension between them was still thick, still so unsure and now slightly awkward as well, and Tooru wouldn’t blame him a bit if he needed some space. Tooru certainly needed some in order to settle his racing heart and mind, and to sort through the muddled mess of what just occurred before he somehow made a fool of himself— something that, as a future king, he most certainly wanted to avoid.

Hajime bowed towards him stiffly, but still gave Tooru the full parting of raising his hand to his heart, his eyes, then sweeping his arm back towards himself— an acknowledgment and a remembrance until they met again. Tooru blinked, then awkwardly returned the gesture, but by the time he finished, Hajime was already retreating into the crowd. Tooru watched his back until he disappeared, and then let out a long sigh.

It was probably for the best.

 

* * *

 

The early morning brought calm. A sense of serenity that came rolling in with the mist and snow.

Hajime knelt among the rocks and sparse trees of the lower mountain as the sun came peeking over the horizon. He stayed alert, hands gripping his bow and arrows while he scanned the area for stray bears, or even the rare fox that might come from its forest dwelling to explore the rocky terrain. One would appear sooner or later, this Hajime knew from experience. He just had to remain still, to hide himself behind the rocks and beneath the shadows, camouflaged by his dark, thick cloak, so they couldn’t sense any threat.

That was the entire goal. To lure the animal in with a false sense of security, then strike them quickly before they could feel any panic or prolonged pain. It was so simple, so straightforward. Not at all like…

He let out a breath, air puffing out before him in a light mist, and shifted to rub his forehead with his upper arm. He could still smell the smoke from the bonfires in the soft fabric of his slate blue shirt, and with the scent came the memories from the night before. How happy Tooru had looked while dancing, laughter bubbling easily to his lips as he tripped over the steps. How right Tooru had felt in his arms, dancing with him, their hands a perfect match for one another. How Tooru’s eyes had sent liquid fire through his very soul, until he was positively burning up from it.

Seeing Tooru glow as radiantly as he did last night, with his hair windswept from the dance and a genuine smile across his lips, well… Hajime had honestly gotten swept away by it. He’d recognized Tooru’s polished beauty and burning spirit, and Hajime had wanted to be a part of that. To seize it, possess it, protect it, and never let go. And even after a night of ceaseless wandering through the mountains, Hajime still couldn’t get the image of Tooru’s flushed cheeks and parted lips as they’d gravitated towards each other at the end of that dance out of his mind.

He’d wanted to kiss Tooru. Even now, away from the firelight and the music, away from Tooru’s heady presence, he still wanted to kiss him.

 _E dea viht dehvee_ , Hajime thought with a defeated sigh. _Please have mercy._

There was a rustle behind him, and the soft clattering of shifting pebbles against the rocky ground. Hajime shook his thoughts away to focus on the sound, fingers tensing around his bow in preparation. He heard the sudden snap of a twig breaking and spun around with his bow lifted, ready to shoot.

Daichi smiled warmly at him.

“You’re up early,” he greeted as Hajime lowered his weapon. He hiked down the last few meters of space to sit down beside Hajime. “Don’t you usually sleep in after feast nights?”

Hajime shrugged, brushing back his hood, and averted his gaze. “Just wanted to change things up this time.”

“I see,” Daichi said, not sounding convinced at all. When Hajime glanced over, he found Daichi smiling knowingly at him, like he knew exactly what Hajime refused to say. “And I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you haven’t slept at all,” he asked, glancing pointedly at the clothes Hajime hadn’t changed out of since the previous night. “Or with how unsettled Tooru now looks.”

Hajime kept his lips pressed tightly together.

A prick of guilt nudged its way through his conscience. If Tooru was unsettled, as Daichi said, then it was Hajime’s fault. He was the one that got carried away and then left with a weak goodbye, no explanation or anything. He hadn’t even returned to their shared tent. Who knew what Tooru was thinking about that. Maybe he was just as confused as Hajime. Maybe he was upset. Maybe… maybe he was repulsed.

Hajime hated that thought.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Daichi said after a few moments of silence. “I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

Not for the first time, Hajime felt beyond grateful for Daichi’s friendship and support, even in a situation he knew nothing about.

Daichi was steady, solid as a rock in his convictions, and loyal to a fault. He always had been. Hajime still remembered how Daichi had looked after him when he’d first been brought into the village, helped Hajime to find his place in the community, laid the foundation for who Hajime now was. If there was anyone in this village that Hajime trusted without hesitation, it was Daichi. And that was why Hajime found himself staring at the rocky ground as he quietly admitted, “I almost kissed him.”

There was a beat of silence, then Daichi asked, equally soft but seemingly unsurprised, “Tooru?” Hajime nodded. “Well, why didn’t you?”

“I just-” Hajime stopped and rubbed a hand over his face, mulling it over in his mind. “I guess it just didn’t feel right? I don’t really know. I wanted to, but it didn’t seem… fair to Tooru, I guess.”

Daichi hummed, but didn’t attempt to refute it. He probably knew first hand what it was like to get caught in the moment the way Hajime had, just considering how often Daichi and Koushi ended up sneaking away from the feasts before the dancing even finished. But it was one thing for couples to let themselves get swept away by the atmosphere of the night, and quite another for Hajime, unattached as he was, to get so carried away with someone who might not share his interest. Particularly when that someone was the banished crown prince they were trying to make King.

There was so much for Tooru to worry about already. So much he needed to do to prepare for the future. Dealing with Hajime’s interest wasn’t something he should have to deal with, especially if it wasn’t returned.

“It might be better this way,” Hajime sighed. “There’s already so much going on. And Tooru needs all the help he can get. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“I suppose. But are you really ok with that? You guys are pretty close already, and Takahiro told me you were flirting with him the other day?”

“I just teased him some and called him _dami_ ,” Hajime answered. Then, realizing exactly what he just said, his admission to using a lover’s term of endearment towards Tooru, Hajime dropped his head against his arm and groaned, “Oh god, _I called him_ dami.”

Daichi placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a bracing squeeze. “Man, you have it bad,” he muttered, and Hajime could actually hear the pity dripping thickly from each word.

Hajime groaned again, but he couldn’t even deny it.

And that was the worst part.

 

* * *

 

Tooru debated with himself for several hours whether or not he should seek Hajime out.

The ranger had been avoiding him ever since that night they danced. As usual, he woke earlier than Tooru and left before Tooru even stirred. But now Hajime spent more and more time out in the clearings with the dragons, returning to their shared tent later and later each evening and then go straight to bed, as if to avoid any prolonged conversation. He didn’t even try to drag Tooru into community events, or cajole him into attempting flight again, which Tooru didn’t really mind except for the fact that it confirmed what Tooru had already guessed; Hajime didn’t want to talk to him.

He supposed he wasn’t surprised. With what almost happened at the feast, it made sense for things to be strange. Tooru had already been expecting some degree of awkwardness, maybe some stilted conversation for a few weeks, some lapse in teasing until things settled down again. He even expected Hajime to be more distant and wary. Tooru definitely was. This flat-out avoidance confused him though.

Was Hajime embarrassed? Was he mad? Did he think Tooru was mad?

“He probably doesn’t know how to face you,” Koushi told him over breakfast the next day. “You guys _were_ looking pretty intimate during that dance. And Hajime doesn’t really do that sort of thing casually. He’s too closed off.”

Tooru frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Koushi answered as he idly stirred his porridge, “that Hajime doesn’t let a lot of people close. But he’s comfortable with you, and so let himself get carried away. He’s probably embarrassed. And maybe worried about how you’ll react to it.”

Which meant that, if they were ever going to get past this awkward stage, Tooru would need to be the one to make the first move.

He contemplated this for a while, turning it over and over inside his head as he went through his daily tasks. He wasn’t quite sure how to approach this, what to say or do to assure Hajime that whatever happened that night, whatever either of them actually felt or thought about it, Tooru wouldn’t be scared away by it, if Hajime was still offering his friendship. Sure, the dance and all of its aftermath did leave Tooru wondering what it might be like to have more then simple friendship with him, but that was beside the point, and something that Tooru wasn’t going to bring up unless he was certain Hajime was wondering the same. Especially when Tooru himself wasn’t even sure that’s what he wanted.

But first, he needed to break the tense atmosphere between the two of them. And to do that, he needed to find Hajime and force him into talking.

It wasn’t difficult to track him down, and Tooru found himself watching Hajime interact with the older hatchlings from a careful distance that same afternoon— far enough away to escape Hajime’s notice, but still close enough to notice the tender care he gave to each dragon. The gentle touches, the crooning words, the soft smiles. Like each dragon was Hajime’s own child.

Tooru smiled to himself as Hajime moved through the flock, making sure each hatchling was comfortable and fed. The dragons all nudged at his gloved hands when he passed, silently asking to be stroked in the same way that a cat would beg for attention. There was something almost domestic about the scene, if a small herd of baby dragons could be considered domestic. Something endearing and warm.

Hajime would make a great partner for whomever he ended up with. The thought of that made Tooru’s heart flutter nervously inside his chest.

“Hajime!” he finally called, pushing his feelings to the back of his mind, where he could examine them later. The ranger’s head shot up at the sound of his name, and a frown pulled at his lips when he spotted Tooru standing near the fence. The frown didn’t lighten up at all as he crossed the ground to stand before Tooru, leaning against the wooden fence that separated the two of them.

“What are you doing here?”

“Now that’s not a very nice way of greeting your friends,” Tooru scolded with a cheerful smile. He tried not to notice the way his stomach was tightening in anxious knots at Hajime’s obvious shock as he continued, “Here I am, taking time out of my busy schedule to check up on you, and you treat me thus! For shame!”

Running a hand down a hatchling’s neck, Hajime turned his head to the side and snorted. “Busy schedule. Try telling that to someone who’ll believe you, you damn freeloader,” he complained, though the slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth gave his amusement away, and Tooru laughed.

“Like you’re around enough to even know these days.”

There was a slight reprimand in his tone, a silent acknowledgment that yes, Tooru had noticed Hajime’s increasing absence in his life and wasn’t about to let it continue if possible. But mostly, he meant the words in jest, and so felt somewhat guilty when he saw how Hajime first froze and then deflated, blowing out all his air in a heavy sigh and soft apology.

He looked tired, maybe even a bit defeated, with dark bags underneath his eyes that spoke of restless nights, and Tooru was reminded of a night two months before, when he hadn’t been able to sleep and Hajime had sacrificed his own rest to try and comfort Tooru. Had talked Tooru through his troubles and listened to his nightmares, and had helped Tooru to see beyond his past into his own future. And Tooru hadn’t been able to do the same for Hajime, now that their positions were reversed. What kind of friend was he?

Tooru frowned, fiddling uncomfortably with his fingers. “I was just a bit worried,” he confessed, not noticing how Hajime’s eyes widened at the words. “You’ve been avoiding me. I was afraid I had done something to make you angry? Or upset?”

“No,” Hajime quickly answered. “No. I just… personal matters. I needed some time.”

Tooru nodded. “Just as long as we’re ok?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

Tooru sighed in relief. The knots in his stomach relaxed and untangled at the assurance, though his heart still fluttered wildly in his chest. Particularly when he glanced up and saw Hajime smiling tentatively back at him, the slightest glimpse of white teeth behind parted lips. His grin grew wider when Tooru flashed a smile back, and he reached up to scrub a hand through Tooru’s already-messy hair.

“We should get you back into the air,” he then said. “Maybe on a different dragon, since you aren’t clicking with Thehtayan.” Tooru chuckled, and watched Hajime shift his weight to glance at the hatchlings behind him, looking contemplative. “We could try to pair you with one of the younger ones. Have the two of you learn together. Do any of them stick out to you?”

None at first glance, Tooru recalled, but then he’d been pretty distracted with his own thoughts when he first arrived.

He scanned over the herd of hatchlings once more with a new perspective, measuring them up, trying to see which had a personality that might match Tooru’s own. His eyes drifted quickly over the dragons, and then settled near the back of the herd where one dragon, a sleek dragon with silver-blue scales and a spike-tipped tale, sat away from all the rest, separate from the pack. As if feeling Tooru’s gaze, the dragon turned its head and stared straight back with piercing, amber eyes. It looked at him with challenge, and Tooru could already see the dragon’s fiery spirit hidden beneath the almost icy exterior. A spirit which called to Tooru’s own.

“That one,” Tooru breathed, not daring to look away from the hatchling. But the proclamation felt right on his tongue, like it was always meant to be there, and part of him knew that was no mistake.

Hajime grinned. “Oh?” he drawled, sounding smug as he recognized the pull between rider and dragon. He looked over his shoulder, following Tooru’s gaze, and then Tooru heard him groan. “Oh no.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this?” Hajime asked yet again as Tooru pulled himself into the saddle on the blue dragon’s back. “He’s still a hatchling. He might not be ready for this.”

Tooru laughed. “Stop worrying so much, Hajime,” he said. He slipped his feet into the stirrup notches, pushing himself into a squat with all his weight on his feet for just a moment to make sure he was steady and secure, then flashed a brilliant smile at the ranger, who had been fretting about this flight ever since Tooru had set his mind on partnering with the young dragon. “You always seem to expect the worst. My dragon and I can handle it.”

He patted the side of the dragon’s long neck with a leather-clad hand— his own gloves this time, custom made by one of the village women, just like the rest of his new protective gear— with all the calm confidence that Hajime refused to show, though silently he had to concede that Hajime had a right to be nervous. The hatchling, only just old enough to start carrying riders, had never before actually flown with a human. It would be his first time in the air with a rider; Tooru would probably need to guide him through everything while simultaneously trying to catch hold of that connection between rider and dragon. And if something happened to go wrong, there was no guarantee that Tooru or the dragon would be able to correct it.

Tooru highly doubted anything bad would occur though. For one thing, they would only be flying a few feet off the ground this time around, which already cut out most of the dangers involved with this. But more than that, Tooru simply had an unshakable faith in the success of this flight. There was something inside him that clung to the idea, locked it deep inside himself, like a gear fitting into his inner clockwork.

Everything was coming together perfectly, in Tooru’s mind. It all just seemed to fit.

Sighing, Hajime handed the reins up to Tooru, then caught his wrist with a hand before Tooru had a chance to pull away. “Just be careful up there,” he said. His hand was warm against Tooru’s skin, but Tooru could also feel just how tense his grip was, like he was struggling not to squeeze too tightly and pull Tooru right back down to solid ground.

“Worried about me?” Tooru teased, just as he always did.

“Yes,” Hajime answered, expression surprisingly serious, sending little butterflies straight to Tooru’s stomach. “I am worried.”

Tooru sucked in a sharp breath. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, and he fought to keep it from filling his cheeks and giving his pleasure at Hajime’s admission away. Hesitantly, Tooru lifted his free hand and placed it on top of Hajime’s, stroking the dark, bare skin and the frayed bandage wrapped around Hajime’s palm with his fingertips.

“I’ll be careful,” he murmured, a quiet promise in the mist of the early morning. Hajime held his gaze for a moment, searching Tooru’s face, his eyes, his very soul, and then released Tooru’s wrist bit by slow bit with an even slower nod.

“You’d better.”

He took several large steps back to make room for what was about to happen, and Tooru recognized the gesture as Hajime’s silent assent to this experiment. Lips curling into a smile, Tooru turned his attention back to the dragon and the task before them. He dug his heels into the dragon’s side as Hajime had instructed the day before, and felt the dragon’s wings unfurl and begin beating, picking up a quick, steady rhythm in a matter of only seconds. Then, they were airborne.

A familiar swooping sensation rushed through Tooru’s stomach as the dragon lifted from the ground in a manner far less polished than Thehtayan’s smooth takeoffs. But that was to be expected of the hatchling’s first flight, and once he had steadied out, Tooru pushed back the slight vertigo in order to focus on finding that thread of awareness that always escaped him with Hajime’s dragon. The search was much easier with the hatchling, whose very presence flared up like a wildfire. Strong, intense, consuming everything around it, including Tooru. There was a little nudge at the back of his mind, a little pull, and then everything locked into place.

He gasped in, and felt the dragon do the same. Their breathing synchronized, as did their hearts, beating in time to the rhythm of the dragon’s wings. They became two minds of a single entity, and moved together in perfect harmony without Tooru even having to think about it. What had been so difficult to him before suddenly became the simplest thing in the world. How had he never made this connection before? How had he never let himself go to the living bond between himself and his mount before this point?

Stars burst inside his mind. A galaxy of knowledge filled his shared awareness with the dragon. _Yanwehn_ , his thoughts supplied in a burst of clarity. His dragon, Yanwehn.

He laughed, giddiness flooding his veins. How fitting that his dragon would be named after the stars. How completely perfect for Tooru, who, like the stars, strove to bring light and guidance back into the darkness of their kingdom.

Grinning, he urged Yanwehn higher, testing their bond and their natural balance of movement as the two pushed into the sky. Tooru felt the cold wind slapping against his skin, pushing against his frame, heard it rushing past his ears, and only smiled wider into the chill. Exhilaration crashed over him in a heady rush as Yanwehn responded to Tooru’s every move and thought, as if they had always been flying together. Like Yanwehn was a piece of Tooru that he’d somehow always been missing until that very moment, when he finally returned to the place that was always meant for him.

It was liberating, knowing he was exactly where he needed to be. He felt his worries and concerns slip away, blown into oblivion by the wind whipping against his face. And with more daring than he ever expected, Tooru spread out his arms and lifted his head into the wind, feeling the pure adrenaline of flight.

Feeling freedom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ehkert = dumbass  
> Dami = beloved  
> E dea viht dehvee = God be kind  
> Thehtayan = weaver  
> Yanwehn = stars
> 
> If you're curious, [ this is the song I listened to while writing Hajime and Tooru's dance ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjKTaIblPxY)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re a pair of saps,” Tooru said, chuckling a bit. 
> 
> “Is that a bad thing?”
> 
> “I hope not.”

Icy wind whipped against his face as he and Yanwehn raced higher and higher into the night sky, towards the bright bursts of light the dragon was named for. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of air past his ears and the beating of Yanwehn’s wings, but he knew Hajime was following right behind, spiraling with Thehtayan through the dark, nimble as only he could be.

It had become something of a routine for them, ever since Tooru’s first flight with Yanwehn, to race through the darkness, weaving between the mountains and over the treetops, completely hidden from the eyes of the kingdom by the cloak of night. And sometimes, when the night was clear and the stars seemed almost in reach, they’d climb high into the heavens, as high as they dared, before falling back towards the earth in a rush of wind, speed, and exhilaration, until their dragons unfurled and caught the air beneath their wings, pulling them both into a smooth glide high above the tents of their village.

This was such a night, and Tooru flattened himself against Yanwehn’s back as they flew ever higher. It wouldn’t be long before Hajime and Thehtayan, whose lithe form was built for speed, overtook Yanwehn, flying in neat little circles around the two of them just to prove they could.

That was how it normally went. Hajime would allow Tooru to take the lead until the very end, when he and Thehtayan would surge past on a sudden burst of speed that Yanwehn, who was built more for power than agility, could never keep up with, particularly with his relative inexperience with flying. But this time, _this time_ , Tooru was determined to keep Hajime from speeding ahead. This time, he was confident in out-pacing Hajime until they reached the limit of their flight, where they would have to fall back or risk physical harm.

They were getting close, Tooru could tell. The air was growing thinner, growing more difficult to breathe, the tips of the tallest peaks coming closer and closer with every passing second, until they rushed past the mountaintops and into the stratosphere.

Hajime was still behind him, but was surely creeping closer the higher they flew. Tooru urged Yanwehn even higher. Further and further, to the very limit of their ability, before Hajime could catch up completely. He could feel Yanwehn’s agreement burning through their mental connection, crackling in heated sparks. The dragon’s determination and competitive nature were perhaps even stronger than Tooru’s own; he wouldn’t let Thehtayan win without a fight. Not this time.

They shot past the peaks of the mountains, straight into the clear night sky with Thehtayan steadily closing in. Gaining speed and ground with every second, until Tooru could glance to the side and see the tip of her snout drawing level with Yanwehn’s outstretched wings, then slowly crawling even higher. _Faster_ , Tooru urged, feeling the echo of his words in Yanwehn’s own spirit. Thehtayan passed by Yanwehn’s wings, snout at about the same height as Tooru himself. He looked over and saw Hajime, nothing more than a dark blur on Thehtayan’s back, even with the enhanced night vision that came with the dragon bond. Both of them soared higher and higher, and Thehtayan continued closing the gap between herself and Yanwehn, now almost level with Yanwehn’s neck. But not before Yanwehn and Tooru reached the very edge of what they could fly through, the invisible border which marked the end of their race, and Tooru’s first victory.

Yanwehn’s wings stopped beating. They continued gliding upwards for just a second, hovered in midair, and then fell back and raced down towards earth once more, Tooru whooping into the air as Yanwehn spiraled down and spread his wings.

He caught the wind and swooped into an easy drift. They flew around the mountain peaks in a downward glide. Tooru sat up, a beaming smile across his face, and stretched his own arms out as if to fly with Yanwehn. The cold wind blew straight through his protective gear and thick sweater to his very bones, but Tooru couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too busy reveling in the adrenaline of flight and joy of victory.

A rush of air and dark blur whooshed past him. Yanwehn was thrown slightly off balance by the force of the wind, and Tooru collapsed forward against the saddle to catch himself as his dragon tilted to the side, banked to the right, and leveled back out. Then the blur swooped in beside them, and Hajime’s amused grin caught his focus.

“Turbulence?” he shouted over the wind. Tooru grimaced in his direction.

“Oh, ha ha. At least I didn’t get beaten by a brand new dragon rider.”

“Tough words,” Hajime threw back. His grin sharpened into a smirk, and with the darkness across his face and wind pushing hair across his forehead he looked even more attractive than usual. “What if I said I _let_ you win?”

Tooru ignored his stomach’s anxious flopping and scoffed. “I don’t believe it. You have too much pride for that,” he said, lifting his nose imperiously into the air. Hajime’s answering laugh was soft within the wind.

“Congratulations, _dami_ ,” he said, his dark eyes laughing, words falling from his tongue like a caress. Tooru furrowed his brows. Hajime had been using that word a lot more often recently, though Tooru still didn’t know what it meant. Hajime refused to tell him. “I guess you’re a proper dragon rider now. We should all just bow down to your expertise.”

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“No I’m not.”

Tooru narrowed his eyes and scowled at Hajime, so calm and collected while circling around Tooru on Thehtayan’s back. There was no doubting the smug expression on Hajime’s face that belied his pleasant words, and it both grated at and excited Tooru, who wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Hajime’s face somehow. Yanwehn snorted and tossed his head impatiently. Tooru understood exactly how he felt.

He glanced past Hajime, and then down at Yanwehn. Excitement and anticipation thrummed through their connection, and Tooru knew they were considering the exact same thing.

 _Vihl mahn nahgeta_ , he thought. _Let us fly_.

Yanwehn snorted, a cloud of smoke bursting into the darkness, and then shot forward, flying right underneath Thehtayan and through the mountains to the west. He banked around the peaks, cutting through the air like an arrow with Tooru pressing himself almost flat against the dragon’s back.

The path was familiar; they’d traveled it often enough in similar fashion. It took little attention for Tooru and Yanwehn to weave through the mountains towards the valley and forest at the edge of the range, where they’d have to turn back around and return to the village. But for now, it acted as the finish line for the race Tooru knew they had started with Hajime. He didn’t even need to look behind him to know Hajime was there, just as before. The ranger was always there. Always flying at Tooru’s side.

The mountain peaks became less numerous, with their rocky silhouettes sloping down into the valley, where dark tops of trees took the place of cliffs and boulders. Their skeletal branches stretched far into the sky, reaching for the dragon riders as they twisted through the air. In the far distance, Tooru saw the faint pinpricks of light from village houses, where families would just now be settling down for sleep beneath thick quilts and snug roofs before waking to yet another long day of work.

The lights looked different from usual, however. Brighter. More orange in hue.

Tooru and Yanwehn banked around in a wide turn before slowing and almost coming to a standstill. Air ruffled past him as Hajime did the same in the opposite direction. Tooru didn’t pay attention, however, keeping his gaze fixed on the light in the distance instead.

Something was off about this entire scene. Something wrong, though Tooru couldn’t put his finger on it. But he could almost swear that the light in the distance wasn’t normal, and he felt apprehension twist in his gut like a knife. That light was far too vibrant and clear to belong to the candles of the village, which were typically too far away from where they were to look like anything except the most distant of stars. But now it shone and flickered like smoldering embers.

Hajime came up beside him. “Is that—?”

“Fire,” Tooru answered. His stomach dropped even as he said the word. “The village is on fire.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s unlikely that it was an accident,” Hajime mused. He ran a hand through his hair, recalling the large flames engulfing the village and the faint yelling he and Tooru had heard when they ventured closer the night before. “Aoba is a farming community. They aren’t working with flames on a daily basis like Dateko or Karasuno.”

Daichi frowned. “It was intentional then,” he said, exchanging a worried glance with Keishin and Takeda. “Someone meant to destroy the whole town.”

“Or a group of someones,” Keishin said. He crossed his arms and stared down at the small, wooden table the four of them sat around in the central tent, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed thin. The dread Hajime had felt since seeing the fire doubled at his troubled expression.

“Do you think it was the King’s Guard? Like Tokonami, or Kakugawa?” he asked.

Keishin’s expression grew even more strained. “Let’s hope not.”

Dropping his gaze, Hajime folded his arms across the table and tried not to consider the destruction last night’s fire must have caused, or what it meant for his own village, which was only a few days’ ride away. If that fire truly wasn’t an accident, if it was set by the members of the King’s Guard…

“Well, we can’t just sit around here wondering,” Takeda said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over them. He placed a hand on Keishin’s shoulder, then smiled encouragingly at Daichi and Hajime. “I’m sure the village will need a lot of help with repairs. Why don’t you two find work and see what you can pick up from the villagers? Koushi and Tooru might be able to help as well.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Keishin asked with a scowl. “Sending our future king into a situation like this?”

Hajime was inclined to agree with Keishin. Bringing Tooru into a village right after a possible search and attack by the guards was risky, and it didn’t sit right with Hajime. Just thinking about it made him all tense, his blood beginning to boil. He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t put a few arrows in anyone that even looked at Tooru in the wrong way. _E dea_ have mercy on whoever laid a finger on him.

Beside him, however, Daichi hummed. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the roof of the tent in consideration. “Bringing Tooru might actually be good,” he said. His fingers tapped rapidly against his leg as he added, “He was able to hide himself for about three years in Dateko, right? I don’t think him getting caught will be much of an issue. And,” he hesitated, smiling apologetically at Hajime, “it would be good for him to see the state of his future kingdom. He’s been isolated from the troubles for so long.”

Hajime bit back his protest and averted his eyes.

Truthfully, Daichi had a point. Dateko had been perfect for Tooru to hide in due to its isolation from the rest of the kingdom, but that also meant Tooru wouldn’t have seen the full extent of his father’s tyranny, which had only grown worse in the years after Tooru’s fake death. And their village in the mountains was even more isolated than that. But even if Daichi was right, Hajime still didn’t like it. The whole thing made him feel uneasy.

He sighed to himself, then forced his clenched fists to slowly relax. Tooru could take care of himself, Hajime knew. He’d be just fine in the kingdom. No harm would come to him, especially with the added support of Daichi, Koushi, and himself. He really needed to stop being so protective.

After all, Tooru wasn’t actually Hajime’s to protect.

“It’s decided then,” Takeda said as he clapped his hands together. “Keishin and I will inform the elders. We’ll get you the necessary supplies. And Hajime,” he paused and smiled pointedly at Hajime, a knowing gleam in his dark eyes, “make sure Tooru returns in one piece.”

Heat crawled up Hajime’s neck, but he nodded.

“Of course I will.”

 

* * *

 

It took five days to travel from their village to Aoba, mostly due to the high water of the mountain streams from melting snow. Summer had arrived, and it left the ground in the mountain valley wet, muddy, and difficult to traverse on horseback, unlike the easy journey when Tooru had first contracted Hajime to lead him through the mountains so many months ago.

It felt weird to remember that trip. Like it was part of another life time. He wore the same thick, travel-worn cloak from back then, hood pulled up to disguise his features within its dark shadows. His hands were covered in leather gloves, as usual, and his bow was stretched diagonally across his chest with the string hooked around his back and quiver hanging at his side from his belt, within easy reach in case they needed it. Looking at Hajime now, knowing the type of guy he was and the secrets he protected, Tooru found it difficult to reconcile the silent ranger he knew back then with the man he turned out to be.

He rode at the front of the group while Tooru, Koushi, and Daichi followed behind him, all of them wrapped up in cloaks against the wind. Tooru held his hood securely over his head. He’d been warned by Koushi before leaving the mountains about the possible presence of his father’s guards in the village and he was determined not to be recognized. They needed answers, and Tooru getting into trouble would be no help to that.

“There it is,” Koushi said beside him. His voice grew quiet at the end, like the words had been stolen straight from his throat, while Daichi sucked in a sharp, audible breath. Tooru looked up and felt his own breath catch.

Dark clouds of smoke still spiraled up from the town into the clear sky above, despite the fire having been nearly a week before. Even from outside the village walls, everything looked charred. Many of the roofs Tooru could see had been burnt straight through, so that only the blackened beams of the original frame still remained, some looking so structurally unsound that Tooru worried they’d collapse at any second. In the surrounding fields, villagers dug through piles of ash and blackened stalks in search of anything that might be salvaged from the burnt crops. The villagers were all covered in dirt and soot. It looked as though they’d been through hell and back.

“How could this happen?” Koushi quietly muttered. He slowed down and stared at the destruction around them with wide eyes, hands clenched tight about the reins of his horse. Daichi and Tooru looked at each other for a moment, then Daichi steered his horse closer to grab one of Koushi’s hands.

“Suga,” he said, using Koushi’s fake name since they were so close to the village, “we need to keep moving.”

Koushi didn’t move. He squeezed Daichi’s hand, but kept his gaze on the burnt fields and soot-covered villagers while his horse pranced impatiently in place. Daichi kept diligently by his side, murmuring quiet words to Koushi that Tooru couldn’t make out, even as he rode slowly past to join up with Hajime, who had stopped just a bit further ahead. But what Daichi was saying was his own business, not anything for Tooru to hear, though part of him wished he had someone to offer him the same comfort.

Tooru met Hajime’s gaze as he rode up. Beneath his hood, Hajime’s expression was carefully guarded. Acting the role of unaffected ranger almost perfectly, save for the flash of gentleness in his dark eyes when he met Tooru’s gaze. What did Hajime see while looking at him? How much of Tooru’s own shock and fear and anger showed in the shadows thrown across his face?

“Oikawa,” he said softly, carefully, as though Tooru was a deer about to bolt. It was strange hearing that name fall from Hajime’s tongue after so many months of friendship, but the concern Hajime showed was just as strong as ever. “Are you alright?”

Tooru took a shaky breath, then shook his head.

He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. Seeing the destruction of the village tore at his heart and forced guilt to sit like a bag of sand within his gut. Oh he knew the fire had possibly been caused by his father. It had happened before, and Tooru had heard of the devastation and burned with rage from his hiding spot in Dateko. But he’d never seen it. Never realized just how terrible the aftermath would be. And it was only made worse by Tooru’s knowledge that all of this had happened because of him. Because his father was searching for him.

Tooru should have been able to prevent this. If he’d only been able to take the throne, to keep his father out of power, none of this would have happened, and these villagers would have continued to live their lives in peace and prosperity. Now they’d be forced to scavenge for food and shelter. And who knew if they’d be able to pay the high taxes his father was surely inflicting upon them. This wasn’t just the destruction of buildings or fields, but a complete decimation of these people’s livelihood. Of their survival. Their very futures. And part of that was Tooru’s fault.

He thought he understood what he was getting into. But all of this was more than Tooru had ever prepared for.

Hajime stared at him with searching eyes. He turned his face away under the heat of Hajime’s gaze and pulled his hood slightly forward to cover his face even more, not sure he was ready for Hajime to see him this vulnerable and upset. But, of course, Hajime saw right through him.

He tugged on the edge of Tooru’s hood, then placed his hand atop Tooru’s head. No body heat seeped through the leather of Hajime’s gloves, but Tooru still felt warmth rush through his body, straight down to his toes. “They still have their lives,” Hajime said. “It’s our job to protect that now.”

Tooru swallowed thickly and kept his eyes averted.

He was saved from answering by the sound of clopping hooves. Hajime pulled his hand away as he turned around, and Tooru glanced over his shoulder to see Koushi and Daichi riding up. They were quiet, and Koushi’s countenance was slightly paler than usual, but both of their expressions were determined. Daichi wasted no time in trotting right past Hajime and Tooru to take the lead, and Tooru willingly fell in behind him.

He needed to keep on moving. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Just had to keep on going, just like the other three.

Daichi led them into the village and down the main streets, looking for an inn to stay in. Or at least a home willing to rent out rooms. It seemed to Tooru that they’d have an easier time pitching tents in one of the empty fields instead, considering how many buildings had been left completely incinerated by the fire earlier that week, but doing so would leave them somewhat isolated from the villagers. Staying in an inn would give them access to its staff, and through them to whatever work was needed within the village, and that was their goal. Tooru still remembered all the odd jobs Hajime had taken within Dateko before they became friends. He figured Hajime at least knew what he was doing, if not Daichi and Koushi as well.

Tooru just kept his head down as they continued along, face hidden by the hood of his cloak. He couldn’t bear to look out on the street and see the ruins just yet. Smoldering houses, vendor stalls tipped over in the streets, villagers passing by with desolate expressions. The small glimpses he’d gotten as they’d entered the village was more than enough for Tooru until he had the time to process all he’d seen and find a way to deal with it.

Eventually, they were pointed in the direction of an inn at the far edge of the village, which had escaped the brunt of the attack. Some of the upper rooms had still obviously been scorched through, so that Tooru could see the bit of inner wall still left after the fire. Mostly, though, the inn remained intact. A lucky break for them.

“Are you Shigeru?” Daichi asked as they walked into the building, finding a young man with light brown hair and dark bags under his eyes. The man looked at them wearily, but nodded. “We’re looking to rent rooms. Whatever you might have.”

“Did you each want your own room? Because I have plenty to spare,” Shigeru answered without hesitation. Tooru didn’t doubt the validity of those words. Anyone that might have been visiting Aoba before the fire would have fled long ago, leaving Shigeru’s inn nearly empty. The four of them were probably the first travelers Aoba would host since the fire, not counting the soldiers of the King’s guard.

They ended up taking only two rooms to save on money: one for Daichi and Koushi, and one for Tooru and Hajime. Shigeru gave them rooms on the floor level, in the corner of the building least touched by the flames, though he was unable to offer them any meal services since the kitchen had been scorched and damaged beyond repair. That was the least of their worries however.

Once settled into their rooms, Daichi and Koushi took it upon themselves to search out work for the four of them to do within the village, while Hajime scrounged around the streets for places to buy food. They still had plenty of supplies to last them through the week, but Hajime would never rest until he knew the layout of the village, and every possible resource they could make use of if things went wrong or the plan changed. That was just the type of person Hajime was. Tooru would be the same way if he weren’t so overwhelmed by the state of his kingdom.

He collapsed onto the bed closest to the door. Hajime had claimed the one by the window before disappearing into the streets, and Tooru wasn’t inclined to argue with him about it. He rolled onto his side. Outside, the villagers continued on with their lives— whatever was still left of them— and picked up the pieces of their broken homes, while Tooru tried not to think about the guilt eating at his stomach, or the nagging in his head that nothing he’d seen was right. That things weren’t how they should be.

And Tooru had no idea how to fix that.

 

* * *

 

The sun beat down on him with blaring intensity as he dug through the burnt crops for anything salvageable, sweat beading along his hairline and across his back under the light cotton shirt he wore. He had pushed the sleeves up past his elbows in an attempt to stay cool, but his bare arms had become coated in dirt only minutes after starting work. It clogged his pores and trapped in heat, which completely defeated the purpose.

Tooru sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. He wiped his forehead with an arm, no doubt leaving a streak of dirt across his skin, then gathered the few immature ears of corn he’d managed to dig from the dirt, covered in soot and slightly scorched but still mostly edible, into his arms and walked over to Shigeru, who was combing a patch of land only a few feet away.

“Having any luck over here?” he asked. Shigeru looked up at him from underneath the wide brim of his sunhat, which was completely identical to the one he’d lent to Tooru to wear, and Tooru knelt on the ground beside him. He dropped the ears of corn into the empty basket Shigeru had brought along and smiled. “This is all I could find.”

“You’re having better luck than I am then,” Shigeru answered.

He pinched his lips together and glared down at the ground, as if it had caused him personal harm. Which Tooru supposed it did, in some sense. The crops had been the village’s main source of food, as Tooru had learned, and so their destruction had been a major blow to everyone. They didn’t have the time to replant, let alone the resources. There was nothing to be done about this year’s crops. No profits could be made. No trades or exports. And so no imports could be made either, even for the food they so desperately needed. They were left to dig what they could from the ashes, and even then it was doubtful there’d be enough to keep everyone fed.

“I should thank you for your help,” Shigeru said. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for us. We weren’t expecting things to be so bad here.”

Shigeru sighed. “You found us at a bad time. The fire happened just last week, so we haven’t really had the time to recover. Especially since the Capital rejected our request for assistance,” he explained, which made Tooru frown.

“So quickly? Without even sending anyone out to check the damage?”

That wasn’t right. The officials were required to look into every request before making a verdict. It was bad enough that his father was probably the reason behind the fire, but to deny the villagers any sort of assistance for food or rebuilding? Not even at least pretending to be concerned about their livelihoods? It seemed to him like his father was growing even more desperate and reckless, putting the wellbeing of his kingdom at risk for his own personal desires. That didn’t sit right with Tooru.

“I knew things were bad with the government, but I didn’t realize how bad,” he muttered, guilt bubbling up in his stomach once more.

Shigeru glanced around them quickly, as if afraid to see someone listening. Maybe one of the King’s Guard soldiers still stationed within Aoba, always watching but never helping. Probably reporting everything that happened back to his father. Tooru held his own hat more securely on his head, shielding his features in shadows, just in case.

Shigeru leaned closer, tilting his head towards Tooru’s. “Apparently,” he began, “they think we’re hiding someone here, and wanted to burn them out. Some people think it’s an illegitimate son, or an official that knows too much. Someone with the power to take over the throne.”

“And what do you think?” Tooru asked.

Shigeru bit his lip, hesitating. He looked around once more, then whispered, “I’m not really sure. Some of the soldiers were talking about the Prince the other day. It almost sounded like they thought he was still alive, but that can’t be possible, can it?” He sighed softly and looked down at the dirt, burying a hand back into the debris. “Still, it would be amazing if he was, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tooru murmured. “I suppose it would be.”

 

* * *

 

Gathering information about the fire turned out to be a lot simpler than Hajime was expecting. Thanks to Shigeru’s kindness, and his weird sort of connection to a carpenter named Kentarou, Hajime and Daichi were able to get work in rebuilding the town without too much trouble or fuss, and it seemed that everyone involved with the rebuilding project was just itching to gossip about what had caused the fire. Or, in this case, whom.

The popular rumor of the townsfolk was that an illegitimate son of the King was hidden somewhere in their midst, and that the King wanted him dead before he could build up enough support to overthrow his reign. There were a million theories on who it could be. Kaneo and Heisuke both swore it was the adopted son of the town’s doctor as they hammered together a new roof for the town hall, while Motomu wondered over some new support beams about the merchants in town, who always seemed to disappear for weird stretches of time during the year. Hajime never mentioned their absence was probably because they were trading with other villages rather than having secret meetings as Motomu suggested. He was happy to remain silent and just absorb anything the others could tell him. And they were more than happy to talk.

It took only a week for Hajime to learn all about the fire. How it had started on the west end of the village, where they kept their extra food and supplies, before spreading eastward at a speed the villagers just couldn’t counteract. How there had been an argument between the village’s leader and the head of the King’s Guard just the day before. How the Capital had refused to send help to put out the flames, and was now rejecting their petition for assistance and food relief, leaving all of the villagers feeling bitter and disillusioned.

“They all agree the fire was deliberate,” Daichi mused as the four of them shared drinks in Aoba’s newly rebuilt tavern, sitting at the table in the very back corner and keeping their voices low to avoid being overheard. “And it seems they all agree it was set by a soldier, not by a villager.”

Koushi nodded. “The villagers doing cleanup say the same thing,” he mentioned, laying out all he’d picked up from his work clearing out debris in the marketplace. He reached for the pitcher of heavily watered-down ale in between all of them, the palms of his hands still coated in black from the soot of charred beams and roof tiles, and poured himself another glass. “I think we can safely assume that our first thoughts were correct, and that they’re looking for Oikawa here.”

He tilted his head in Tooru’s direction, and Hajime frowned.

“I don’t know. No one’s mentioned that as a possibility. Not even as a joke.”

“Doesn’t rule it out though,” Koushi pointed out. “Most of what the King’s Guard does is secret to the common folk. They’re just as reserved as rangers about their goals, as you very well know.”

Hajime’s frown grew even more pronounced. It pulled painfully at the muscles in his cheeks and jaw, but the feeling was dulled by the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists, all because Hajime couldn’t deny what Koushi was saying. He knew from personal experience just how true it was. Hajime just didn’t want to accept what that secrecy might mean. Just considering it made his stomach flip over in dread.

He glanced at Tooru across from him, whose head was bowed and shoulders tensed, and wondered just what was going through his head at the moment. He’d been quiet all night. All week, actually, now that Hajime thought about it. The silence was unnatural for Tooru, and it left Hajime completely lost with how to talk to him, though he wanted to ask Tooru a million different things.

How was working in the fields? Had Shigeru said anything to him? Had any of the others? How was Tooru holding out with all of this? Was he shocked? Was he angry? Was he ok?

“Well,” Daichi began, drawing Hajime’s attention away from his own thoughts, “unless we hear one of the King’s Guard mentioning it, we can’t know for sure. This might really be about someone who knows too much. Or maybe there’s something we’re missing.”

“Shigeru said the soldiers were talking about me the other day,” Tooru cut in. He lifted his head, glancing at each one of them in turn, and then turned his gaze to the patrons filling the rest of the tavern. “And I know my father’s tactics. This has happened before. It will happen again.”

A haunted look passed over his face, stretched thin over the tense set of his expression, and Hajime found himself speechless. The other two at their table were equally lost for words. But what could they say after a statement like that? What could anyone say?

They sat in silence. The tavern filled the tension between them with loud laughter and murmured voices. There was the clink of glasses as a table across the room toasted something, and the ringing of the bell above the door while other patrons came and went. Hajime stared down at his cup, half-filled with ale he no longer felt like drinking. And, from the heavy silence that covered their table, he was pretty sure Daichi and Koushi were doing the same.

The bell above the door chimed again.

“Ah! Sawamura! Iwaizumi!” a voice called. Hajime glanced over his shoulder, seeing one of the carpenters he and Daichi had often worked with waving over at them. He nodded, while Daichi offered a pleasant wave, and the man went over to the bar.

Daichi dropped his hand with a sigh. “I should probably go speak with him. Unless you wanted to?” he asked Hajime, who shook his head. He wasn’t really in the mood to put on a disguise and interact with people. Daichi nodded, then pushed back his chair. “Alright then. Suga, you want to come with?”

“Sure, why not?” Koushi replied.

He got to his feet, grabbed his drink, and then followed Daichi across the room to greet the carpenter, leaving Hajime and Tooru alone at their table. The first time since setting out on this journey that Hajime and Tooru had truly been alone together. And Hajime didn’t know what to say.

He lifted his gaze to Tooru by habit. Since their shared dance, he’d found himself automatically seeking Tooru with his eyes, gaze lingering on his lithe form whenever Hajime thought Tooru wasn’t looking. Tooru kept his face turned away now, seeming to be off in a world of his own, and it left Hajime free to observe and admire.

Dressed in a loose black sweater to ward off the slight chill of the late evening, Tooru was just as handsome as he always was. Maybe even more so. The candle light of the tavern played across his skin and emphasized the elegant lines of his face and neck. He had a tiny sunburn across his cheeks and nose from working in the fields all day, but it only added a rosy color to his creamy skin, and somehow helped make Tooru’s dark clothing look even more flattering on him than usual, which Hajime thought was a bit unfair. Even upset, as Tooru clearly was, he sat in his wooden chair with the easy grace of a king, languid and powerful and dignified all at once. The only thing missing was a crown atop his head.

It took Hajime a moment to remember that someday a crown would be there, if everything went according to plan. And then Hajime would have no place in Tooru’s world.

He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “You haven’t been sleeping well recently,” he said, recalling the past few nights of hearing Tooru’s restless tossing and turning. “Nightmares troubling you again?”

There was a rustle as Tooru shifted in his chair.

“Not really,” Tooru answered. His voice was soft, but genuine, and it lacked the sharp edge that usually accompanied Tooru’s lies. Hajime leaned back in his chair to properly face Tooru, who simply shrugged, fingertips tracing over the thin edge of his cup. “It’s just… difficult being here. Seeing what I should have prevented. If only I hadn’t spent the last few years hiding instead of facing my father head on.”

“You did what you had to, _dami._ I’m sure hiding hasn’t been easy for you.” Hajime knew how difficult it was for himself at times, and he’d been living in secret for most of his life. He hadn’t been forced from a life of privilege and thrust into a lifestyle he’d never expected. Had never been pursued by the threat of death. Not in the way Tooru had, at least.

He stretched his legs out to gently knock his ankle against Tooru’s own underneath the table, smiling a bit when Tooru nudged him back. The last time they’d shared a table like this, sitting across from each other in an actual tavern, they’d been back in Dateko, oblivious to each other’s identities. Hajime had only know Tooru as ‘Oikawa,’ the attractive, but persistent miner who defied all expectations. It was strange to think back on that time, and to realize just how little he knew about the man he was now so attached to and protective of. And how much he still had left to learn.

“Can I ask you something?” he muttered, figuring now was as good a time as any to get a few answers, as long as they were having this heart to heart. Tooru furrowed his brows but gestured for him to continue, and Hajime asked, “Why the name Oikawa?”

“Why Iwaizumi?” Tooru countered. When Hajime didn’t back down or show signs of answering, Tooru sighed and bent forward to rest his arms on the table. “It was the name of the hero in my favorite book as a child. My mother used to read it to me all the time. And running away… it just seemed like the only name that fit.” He looked away, mouth twisting into a wry grin that made Hajime’s chest tight. “I knew my father at least wouldn’t recognize it. He never was one for fairy tales.”

That, Hajime could believe. Just from all the things Tooru had told him about growing up in the castle, Hajime knew how domineering and strictly practical his father was. Not to mention the persecution he’d inflicted upon both dragons and dragon riders alike as a young king, which had forced the survivors to flee into the mountains and bide their time. No doubt Tooru’s father wanted to erase the existence of dragons entirely, including fairy tales about them. He must have hated having a son like Tooru, who had inherited his mother’s connection with dragons.

Hajime suddenly felt immensely grateful for the presence of this woman he’d never met in Tooru’s life. Even if only for a short time.

Tooru continued tracing the rim of his glass, pointer finger looping over and over again while the glass emitted a very faint, low hum. His eyes were downcast, staring at the dark wood of the tavern table, and Hajime’s heart squeezed yet again. E dea, he really hated seeing Tooru so upset.

“Iwaizumi is my family name,” Hajime finally said. Tooru looked up at him, curious, and Hajime crossed his arms over his chest as he explained, “I don’t use it inside the village because it’s not who I am anymore, but I never really liked the idea of using any other name as a ranger.” He shrugged and added, “Maybe a part of me still wants that connection with my family. I don’t know.”

“We’re a pair of saps,” Tooru said, chuckling a bit.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I hope not.”

They fell silent again, both caught up in their own thoughts. Tooru returned to staring at the table, brows pinched together to form valleys in the skin. His finger continued its path along the edge of his cup, though at a faster, more erratic rhythm as the minutes passed. Hajime could almost see the thoughts racing through his mind. About Aoba, and his father, and his years of hiding. All the doubts he usually kept so bottled up inside, but, for some reason, allowed Hajime to see.

Hajime reached across the table and pulled Tooru’s hand from the rim of his glass to hold in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll find a way to help them, _dami_ ,” he said. “Just keep your head up. Be patient.”

Tooru sighed. “I know.”

He pulled his hand back, then lifted his cup to his lips and emptied it in a single go. He slammed it back down on the table, along with a few coins to pay for his share of the drink. Then he stood and walked out of the tavern without another word.

Hajime could only watch his retreating back and pray for everything to turn out alright.

 

* * *

 

Tooru tried to be patient as the days continued. Did his best to help with the rebuilding, rather than focusing on the troubles his father had created in his search for Tooru. Attempted to gather information like the rest of his group without revealing too much about himself, just as was expected of him. But it was so difficult to keep a straight head about it all when he saw the effects of his father’s reign growing worse with every passing day.

As the week passed and the Capital’s decree about refusing help showed no signs of lifting, the blackened fields surrounding the village became more and more crowded with villagers digging for provisions. Not because they had run out of supplies quite yet, but because they were realizing this was their only source of food until the fields could be cleared and fall crops could be planted, and they needed to save all they could while they still had the chance. Tooru got used to seeing half the village walking around covered in dirt and sweat. Got even more used to the prickly feeling inside his stomach whenever he saw the nearly empty baskets of villagers as they left the field at the end of the day.

It was the worst feeling, just sitting around and waiting for a solution to be found. Everything inside of him longed to take action somehow. It was an uncomfortable itch underneath his skin that he just couldn’t seem to cure. He tried to spread whatever food he could find among the villagers, but it didn’t help much. Because the truth was, no matter how he calculated it, there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone to last until autumn. Not unless someone did something about it.

How could his father do this to them? To these innocent people who did nothing more than refuse to hand over a person they never had? Tooru couldn’t stand the thought that they were being punished for his existence.

Being in the marketplace was especially difficult. He was used to pushing through crowds on market day. The cheery calls of vendors hawking their merchandise, and the chatter of villagers debating what to buy or catching up on gossip. The smell of roasting street food mixed together with the crisp tang of fresh produce. Tooru followed after Hajime and Shigeru now and kept his head down, because he hated seeing how few stalls there were. How empty the plaza was of people. How thin and exhausted the few villagers who managed to scramble together something to trade were.

Tooru was infinitely grateful that Hajime was there with them this time, because Tooru wasn’t at all sure how he’d react without his steady presence. He’d probably only get himself into trouble in this state. And that wasn’t good for anyone.

“I wish I had more to contribute,” Shigeru was saying to Hajime, who carried a basket full of old blankets and clothing. Shigeru shifted the box full of shoes and soap and other such small necessities that he was carrying to sit more comfortably in his arms. “I know a lot of people will be grateful for all of this, but it won’t keep them fed. And that’s what we really need.”

“You lost a lot in the fire,” Hajime pointed out, and Shigeru sighed.

“We _all_ did.” He set his box down in the brick courtyard of the marketplace, with both Hajime and Tooru following suit, then glanced around. It looked like an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders with how the muscles relaxed as he gazed over the courtyard. “At least the King’s Guard has pulled out.”

Hajime opened his mouth, no doubt to comment on Shigeru’s statement, when he was interrupted by a loud crash from inside one of the surrounding buildings. Shigeru’s head snapped towards the source of the noise, while Tooru and Hajime both glanced at each other, knowing what that sound usually meant. There was a yell shortly after, and all three of them winced.

“Well,” Shigeru amended under his breath, “most of the King’s Guard.”

Another crash, and then a man Tooru recognized as Shigeru’s carpenter friend— Kentaruo, he thought the name was— stormed into the courtyard with what looked like a black eye on the right side of his face. He was followed closely by another male in a King’s Guard uniform, who was screaming profanities at Kentarou’s back; one of the few members of the King’s Guard to still be stationed in Aoba, and obviously unhappy about it. Whatever Kentarou had done, which probably involved a lot of snarling and under-his-breath insults just knowing how Kentarou was, had upset the soldier beyond what he could bear, and now the soldier was taking it out on him.

Tooru winced as the soldier caught up to Kentarou’s long strides and snatched at the back of Kentarou’s shirt. The soldier pulled his arm sharply back, knocking Kentarou off his feet so that he fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Oh no,” Shigeru whispered. He stood from the ground and, before Tooru could make any move to stop him, rushed across the courtyard to Kentarou’s side. Tooru made to go after him, knowing that a confrontation involving both Shigeru and Kentarou could only end badly, but was stopped by Hajime’s sudden grip around his wrist.

“Don’t,” Hajime said. His lips were pinched together, jaw set, clearly having to hold himself back from getting involved as well, and it made Tooru pause. Reassess. Then he heard Shigeru’s voice join in the arguing, and snapped back around to see Shigeru arguing fiercely with the soldier. Hajime’s grip on his wrist tightened. “Tooru. This isn’t the time for you to get involved.”

Inwardly, Tooru knew Hajime was right. Throwing himself into the fray probably wouldn’t make anything better in the scheme of things, and was just asking for someone to find out who he really was. Something their group had been careful to avoid this entire time. But Tooru was so sick of just sitting around and watching things go from bad to worse. Was sick of not being able to help. Of not fighting back.

The soldier raised his hand, looking prepared to hit Shigeru, and Tooru shook Hajime’s grip from his wrist.

Ignoring Hajime’s shout, he strode across the courtyard, mustering every ounce of frustration and rage he possibly could. He squared his shoulders, the way his tutors had taught him before his first appearance in his father’s council meeting at fifteen years old, and schooled his expression into a mixture of disdain and haughty disinterest. This was just another day at his father’s court. Just another unruly guard to discipline and intimidate into submission.

He didn’t stop to think. He just acted.

“What is going on here,” Tooru demanded, reaching the group before the soldier’s hand could touch Shigeru. The soldier let it fall to the side and turned to glare at Tooru, not at all intimidated by Tooru’s imperious air.

“Nothing that concerns you, so beat it.”

Shigeru bristled up at the command. “Back off,” he snapped. The soldier snarled and started hurling insults at Shigeru, who hurled insults right back at him, while Tooru knelt beside Kentarou.

The carpenter was more battered than Tooru had expected. There were several bruises across the right side of his face, jaw to temple, from what looked like multiple punches. They were all fresh, and each sickly in appearance against his tan skin. But by far the worst was the blackened bruise all around his eye, which was already swelling up so Kentarou was forced to squint. Tooru reached out as if to touch the bruise on Kentarou’s chin, and the carpenter flinched away, scowl etched deeply across his face.

The argument between Shigeru and the soldier escalated above him, to the point where they were both almost screaming in each other’s faces. Shigeru spit on the ground at the soldier’s feet, and the soldier all but roared.

“You piece of shit! Why I should-”

“If you so much as lift another finger against these people, you will regret it,” Tooru interrupted, voice cold as the ice and snow of the mountains. He drew himself up to his full height, almost seeming to tower over the soldier, who had to tilt his head back to hold Tooru’s gaze. Tooru could see the way his fists trembled at his side— from fear or anger or repressed violence, Tooru didn’t know, and really didn’t care. Regardless, the soldier didn’t allow himself to be scared off, and actually stepped closer into Tooru’s space.

“By whose authority?” he scoffed. His mouth pulled back into a snarl, and Tooru, in the darkest corners of his heart, felt anticipation and pleasure unfurl with the idea of triumphing over this man. Gaining at least one victory over his father’s tyranny, even at the expense of this man’s misplaced arrogance. “You have no right, filthy peasant. Probably a traitor like the rest of them.”

Tooru fought to keep a gloating grin off his face. This man had no idea who he was talking to or what he was saying. And if Tooru were a little calmer, or a little smarter, he would have let the comment pass without issue. But then that was the issue. He wasn’t calm. He couldn’t be calm after seeing the destruction his father’s obsession brought, even to innocent bystanders. The devastation of the people. _His_ people. All because of his father’s need for control and his fear of losing power.

Well, if his father was going to hunt him down like this, then Tooru would stop running. It was time to stand out in the open, rather than hiding in the shadows.

“I shall decide who is and isn’t a traitor,” he declared, lifting his chin with pride befitting a member of the royal family. He stared down his nose at the soldier, imperious to a fault, and added, “You would do well to show your prince some respect.”

By this point, a crowd had gathered around them, and whispers erupted all around him at the title he had bestowed upon himself. A quick glance around confirmed the confusion and suspicion running rampant through the villagers around them. Only a few seemed to understand exactly what his words implied, one of whom was the soldier of the King’s Guard, who had frozen in mute horror as realization dawned. Tooru savored the soldier’s shock with all the satisfaction of a well-fed dragon.

The man could do no more now. Not surrounded as he was by villagers, who would undoubtedly flock to Tooru’s side once he declared his intentions. And, thankfully for his own sake, the soldier seemed to know it. He didn’t drop to his knees to beg or grovel, as Tooru would have preferred in this instance, but he stood with his head bowed, completely defeated.

Tooru reveled in his submission.

He turned to address the crowd. “I am Tooru, Crown Prince of this kingdom and rightful heir to the throne. And I hereby claim this village under my protection,” Tooru proclaimed, voice echoing off the buildings to the now-silent crowd, his words ringing with intent.

Few would be able to ignore just what Tooru’s statement would actually mean. His claim on Aoba acted as a marker, a declaration, an outright rebellion against his father’s reign. It was a call to arms, just as much as a promise of protection; a chance for the people to fight back. And Tooru's chance to finally fix all of the wrongs his father had inflicted. Whether or not they believed him to be the prince, he knew they would rally to his cause, because at least he was willing to fight.

Already the villagers surrounding him were dropping to their knees, swearing to him their fealty in their silent act. Behind the crowd he saw Hajime, who was glaring openly at Tooru. Heatedly. And Tooru thought he had an idea as to why, but he couldn’t tackle that at the moment. He would have to address it later.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the soldier still cowering before him. Tooru's ticket to the fight he'd always known would one day happen. There was really only one way for Tooru to deal with him.

“Go tell my father to prepare himself,” he told the soldier, now his impromptu messenger. A vicious smile then tugged at Tooru’s lips. “Let him know his throne won’t be safe for long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for how long updating has been taking. This semester has been crazy, and made finding time to write really difficult.
> 
> Just a heads up: I'm currently working on a very long iwaoi astronaut au oneshot. [I posted a preview here in case you haven't yet seen and are interested](http://eclecticinkling.tumblr.com/post/143720819991/preview-the-planets-bend-between-us). In any case, I REALLY want to finish it quickly, so I'm going to wait to work on the next chapter of IFF until I at least have a good chunk of the oneshot out of the way. Hopefully, now that I've graduated, I'll be able to spend more time writing and get things out faster. We'll see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really worried him, didn’t I? When I revealed my identity, I mean.”
> 
> “You worried all of us.”
> 
> “But not the way I worried Hajime.”
> 
> “No,” Koushi agreed. “You’re right about that.”

“What were you thinking!” Hajime roared the moment he and Tooru were alone, safe in the privacy of their room. He slammed the door shut. The wall shook with the force of his anger, which was burning through his veins like dragon’s fire. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

Tooru didn’t answer. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight as he leaned over to unlace his boots. For once, his expression was completely guarded. Hajime couldn’t tell what he was thinking, if he understood the gravity of his earlier declaration, or if he was even concerned by the consequences. He _should_ be concerned. This fight against his father wasn’t something to be taken lightly, and they needed every advantage they could get in order to overpower him. Advantages they just didn’t have at the moment, and probably never would now that Tooru had shown their hand.

“You just had to play the hero, didn’t you,” Hajime muttered, pulling at his hair. “You couldn’t just let it be.”

“What was I supposed to do? They needed help!”

“There are other ways to go about it than revealing your identity!” Frustrated, Hajime paced back and forth across the room, steps falling heavily on the wooden floor. Oh how he wished he had a dragon’s strength at this moment. Maybe then he’d be able to stomp some sense into Tooru. “You don’t even realize how much trouble you’ve caused for everyone else! Idiot! _Ehkert!”_

Tooru stood. “Don’t call me _ehkert_!” he snapped. His cheeks flushed red, and his hands curled into trembling fists at his side as he glared down at Hajime, who stepped forward to scowl straight into Tooru’s face.

“ _Ehkert!”_ Hajime repeated. He’d use the insult a million times if it got his words through Tooru’s thick head. He grabbed the front of Tooru’s shirt and, slipping into Ahmsahi in his frustration, added, _“Juhlan! Kertcha! Vihtyohn dehna wynn? Jusheeyohn lahl kip!”_

 _“Wiyr! Rehniahn sci vihtahn locht!”_  
  
_“Lochtayohn?”_ Hajime’s fingers curled tighter in the coarse fabric of Tooru’s shirt. He narrowed his eyes.

Hajime sure hoped Tooru was as confident as he sounded, that he had some sort of plan figured out in that head of his, otherwise they’d all be in huge trouble. They already were with the guard on his way to the King, and word of Tooru’s existence spreading across the land. And they didn’t even have their dragons there for protection. They were completely defenseless. And even worse, the village was completely defenseless. At the mercy of the king’s wrath unless they figured something out.

“You just brought the might of the king’s army down on this place,” he growled. “These people aren’t soldiers. They have no weapons. No fighting experience. And you just made them a target.”

“It’s not just them though. People are going to come flocking into this place, ready to fight.”

“You hope.”

“I _know_ ,” Tooru said, emphasizing his words with a slight shove to Hajime’s shoulder. “No one’s happy with my father in charge. I learned that much from my time in Dateko. They want him gone just as much as we do.”

“But will they _fight?”_ Hajime asked. He looked up at Tooru’s brown eyes, bright in his determination, and felt almost frantic. Tooru didn’t seem to understand the risk he took. That even if the other villages wanted a different leader, they might not willingly choose to go to war. That all those years of hiding, all the months he’d spent in their village, becoming a dragon rider, could all be for nothing because they weren’t properly prepared. And they couldn’t even retreat anymore because they had gotten Aoba involved. How could Hajime even begin to explain all of that with Tooru so set on finally fighting? It was like trying to hold water with open hands. _“Yohn viht ekhla sol! Ahn fayrahni di brehmahn sehfi!”_

“Stop ranting at me in Ahmsahi! I can’t understand half of what you’re saying!”

 _“Vee!”_ Hajime yelled. He let go of Tooru’s shirt to frame Tooru’s face with his hands, holding his gaze as if by doing so Hajime could transmit all of his thoughts and frustration and concern straight into Tooru. _“Juhlan! Yoht juhlan! Nunc yoht lochta shilahn!”_

Tooru just blinked in response.

Enough. Nothing he said would pierce through Tooru’s determination right now. He didn’t know why he even tried. Curse his heart for being so attached to this stupid prince. For wanting to make sure that Tooru, at least, lived trough all of this.

He released Tooru and turned on his heel, not saying another word, even when Tooru huffed loudly in his direction. But Hajime couldn’t stay here right now. He was too angry, and there was too much he needed to do, and if he stayed he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from locking Tooru away in safety, or from possibly wringing Tooru’s neck. Both seemed like excellent options at the moment.

 _“Bretalli, dami,”_ he murmured as he walked through the door. But no more than that. He was too afraid that if he actually said goodbye, it would be for the last time. And even with how angry he was, Hajime would never allow that to happen. Not if he could help it.

 

* * *

 

Tooru didn’t see Hajime for three days. Not even the smallest glimpse of him. Which probably should have alarmed Tooru more than it actually did, since the two of them were sharing a room and needed to cross paths at some point in the day. But ever since Hajime had stormed from the room after their fight that day, he hadn’t yet returned to the inn for any reason. At least not while Tooru was there.

That was fine though. Tooru wasn’t worried. This sort of thing happened all the time in the village, when Tooru and Hajime were at each other’s throats and needed some distance before they could speak reasonably with each other once more. Hajime always elected to disappear somewhere in the woods for a few days while Tooru took refuge in the otherwise empty tent. But eventually, Hajime always came back. So Tooru wasn’t worried. He couldn’t let himself worry.

There was so much else for him to focus on. Aoba was turning into a makeshift military camp with word of Tooru’s return spreading across the land. People from nearby villages flocked in to join their cause, with the promise of even more fighters heading their way, and Tooru, as the rightful heir, needed to take his responsibility as their leader as seriously as possible. He needed to make sure these people were fed and clothed and sheltered. That they were given the weapons to defend themselves if they didn’t bring their own. That they were assembled into some form of a military group and given all the training they would need.

It was painfully obvious that what Hajime had said before was true; these people were not soldiers. Not in the least bit.

“There’s not one person here that could pass as an officer in the King’s Guard,” he mused to Daichi as he watched a group train in the middle of the town square. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know I should be grateful for the support we have, but I’m really not sure how to lead these people into battle. I can’t watch the whole army at once. I need officers to keep them all together.”

“We’ll figure something out. Koushi and I can each lead a side, at the very least. And I’m sure there’s a few fighters with officer potential somewhere in our troops, if we really need them,” Daichi assured him. He clapped a hand over Tooru’s shoulder, giving Tooru a gentle shake, and then pulled him away from the town square. “Try not to focus on that too much, Tooru. We still have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Nodding, Tooru allowed Daichi to lead him down the street to the town stables, which had hastily been converted into a sort of armory just the other day. Villagers were rushing in and out of the stable doors, arms full of every weapon and shield that could be saved from the King’s Guard headquarters on the edge of Aoba, while Shigeru orchestrated the entire organization of everything. It helped lift Tooru’s spirits to see the efficiency with which the matter was being handled. Shigeru, at least, could be trusted with responsibility. And while he wasn’t the strongest of fighters one-on-one, he was loyal to a fault and would definitely be able to command a group of soldiers with ease.

Tooru would need to speak with him about that later. It’d probably take a lot of convincing before Shigeru even somewhat believed he could fill the position. But Tooru knew he wasn’t wrong in this.

He glanced around and took stock of their supplies. Piles of shields and swords and armor sat all around the old stables, shining as though covered in morning dew. Enough for a whole village worth of fighters. Though not nearly enough for all the other citizens coming in from across the kingdom.

“We’ll need to divide it among everyone,” he told Shigeru. “We’ll probably come up short though.”

Shigeru blinked, then tilted his head to the side. “Oh, this isn’t all we have,” he said. “This is just from the headquarters. You should go check what we have out back.”

Mystified, Tooru did as Shigeru suggested. He’d thought the King’s Guard headquarters was their only source of supplies for weapons, so to hear they had more was completely baffling to him. He had no idea where they might have scrounged up more. And neither did Daichi, considering the puzzled look on his face when they glanced at each other and crossed the stables.

Daichi pushed open the large, sliding door that led out into the community paddocks, and the first thing that hit Tooru was the sound of clanging metal and loud voices issuing directions at a rapid pace. Not what he’d been expecting at all. Stepping out into the field, Tooru lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the influx of light. It took a moment for them to adjust, but as soon as the glare and fuzz cleared from his vision he was greeted by several wagons filled with shining metal. Swords and armors and shields. All of them being unloaded into piles by the door that were already almost as tall as Tooru.

 _“E dea viht vee,”_ Daichi murmured beside him. And Tooru nodded mutely in agreement, too shocked to do anything else.

Where had all this come from? It wasn’t theirs, and it definitely didn’t belong to Aoba. This village had no mining materials or forges to create so many weapons. So where had they gotten these?

“Oikawa!” someone yelled, right before Tooru was almost knocked off his feet by a strong collision.

Grunting, Tooru tried to regain his footing, but it was made difficult by the extra body weight and the strong arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. He glared at his attacker, gaze burning straight into the equally burning eyes of Futakuchi.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Futakuchi demanded, then shook his head. “Scratch that. Have you known about the rebellion this whole time? Is that why you left so suddenly? Why didn’t you _tell_ us? We would have come too!” He shifted one of his arms from Tooru to wave over at one of the wagons across the paddock and yelled, “Hey guys! Look who’s here!”

Four heads popped out from around the sides of the wagon and, seeing who Futakuchi was with, all cried out, “Oikawa!”

There was a loud clang as they all dropped whatever they’d been holding to run over to Futakuchi and Tooru, who had gone speechless at the appearance of his old friends from Dateko. Sasaya and Kamasaki were the first to reach him, and they practically jumped on him and Futakuchi in their enthusiasm, all while exclaiming about how they never thought they’d see him again. Then Moniwa arrived with Aone in tow to save Tooru from the crushing weight of his three friends.

“It’s so good to see you, Oikawa,” Moniwa said in that calm voice of his, quietly beaming as he shook Tooru’s hand. “We’ve all been worried these past couple of months, wondering where you went. You look good.”

“Thank you,” Tooru choked out. He didn’t know what else to say; he was in too much shock. It really shouldn’t have been so surprising to him that his friends would volunteer to fight once they heard the Prince had declared war, but somehow he never considered that they’d be here. With him. Fighting for him. But they were here. They were _here._ “What are you doing here?”

Moniwa chuckled. “Well, we heard Prince Tooru had declared war and Futakuchi insisted we come help.”

“Commanded, really,” Kamasaki added. “Though we would have come anyways. This is for our kingdom, after all.”

Moniwa nodded, seconding what Kamasaki said. “We thought we could provide some weapons at the very least.” He smiled and touched the hilt of a sword hanging from his hip, which Tooru hadn’t noticed until just then. “You know Dateko shields and blades are the strongest in the kingdom. The whole town agreed to send our supply here.”

Something large and warm bloomed in Tooru’s chest, and spread through the rest of his limbs like liquid sunshine.

His friends were doing this for him. To help him. They were willing to put their lives on the line to fight for him and the vision of a kingdom he wanted to provide. And they didn’t even realize it. They didn’t know the prince they were handing their fates to was him, which made it all the more precious. That they would trust and follow him in this even without sharing a friendship. It bolstered Tooru’s confidence in his own ability to lead. Motivated him to make good on his promise to set things right.

Tooru relaxed and looked at his friends, smiling at each one in turn. “Thank you. Your support means the world to me,” he said, ignoring the looks of bemusement they gave him in return. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at Daichi, who had been counting their new store of supplies during the whole exchange, and asked, “Well?”

“This is far more than enough, Tooru,” Daichi answered, and Tooru smiled to himself when he heard the quiet hiss of whispering pass through his circle of friends. They’d figure it out soon enough, and that was just fine with Tooru. He didn’t want to hide from them anymore. “And then add in the weapons coming from the village, and we could probably supply the King’s Guard itself.”

“The village?” Tooru asked. He knew they were going to be involved in the fight, but with Tooru’s sudden declaration he wasn’t sure to what extent. How much preparation they’d already made that could be brought down to Aoba.

“Yeah. Hajime went back the night this all began. Didn’t want you to risk a fight without all your resources apparently. I swear I’ve never seen him ride so fast, even on Thehtayan. He didn’t tell you?”

Tooru shook his head. What Daichi said rang through his mind like a bell, echoing over and over and over as each individual note gradually fell into place. Creating a song that had always been there, but that Tooru had never thought to examine until now.

“No,” he answered quietly. “No he didn’t. He didn’t say a word.”

And Tooru was starting guess why.

 

* * *

 

“I really worried him, didn’t I?” Tooru asked Koushi later that night, sitting together in the quiet darkness on the steps of Shigeru’s inn. Koushi glanced over at him in confusion and he elaborated, “When I revealed my identity, I mean.”

“You worried all of us.”

“But not the way I worried Hajime.”

“No,” Koushi agreed. “You’re right about that.”

Sighing, he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees, fingers picking absentmindedly at the loose threads of his sweater. A nervous habit of his that Tooru noticed cropping up whenever Koushi either didn’t know what to say or had some sort of comment he was holding back, which was all Tooru needed to realize the word ‘worried’ wasn’t strong enough to cover Hajime’s reaction. Not entirely.

Tooru stared off into the distance and pondered over this. He’d never seen Hajime actually, truly scared before. Worried, anxious, agitated: yes. But never scared. Except that’s what he was that night, wasn’t it? So terrified he could only channel it through his anger, attacking in the same way an animal might when feeling threatened. But why? That was the more interesting question for Tooru. Why had Hajime felt so strongly about Tooru’s decision? Did it have to do with the danger Tooru was creating for others through his war? Or did it have something to do with Tooru himself? Perhaps fear of the danger Tooru was putting himself in? Of the risk that meant he might lose Tooru?

 _Oh e dea,_ he didn’t know. Tooru wished Hajime was here right now. He had so many questions. So many things he needed to figure out and reevaluate. And he didn’t even know where to start.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, fingertips curling and scraping at the skin of his forehead. Koushi reached over to gently rub his back, soothing Tooru with the steady pressure of his hand.

“He should have just _talked_ to me instead of lashing out,” Tooru complained. Koushi smiled at him sympathetically.

“To what end? You’d already made your decision. Talking wouldn’t fix it.”

“But neither does yelling,” he pointed out. “I could have reassured him. We could have made plans. I didn’t even know he was heading back to the village until Daichi said something yesterday, and now it’s all I can think about! That, and how I never apologized before he left.” He tugged at his hair for a moment, then sighed and let his hands fall limply into his lap. “He always does this. How am I supposed to know when he’s actually upset when he’s just constantly _ekhert_ this, and _dami_ that.”

Koushi let out a choked noise. _“Zeh sahilyoht dami?”_

“Yes. But I don’t have any idea what it means!” Tooru answered.

“Oh, Hajime,” Koushi muttered in exasperation. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed out through his nose, and then turned to face Tooru directly. “ _Dami_ is… well, it’s difficult to truly explain in Common Tongue, but I suppose the closest translation is ‘beloved.’ But it’s more than that. It…” He huffed, waving his arms in circles as if unable to find the right words, then tried again. “To recognize someone as _dami_ is a big deal. It’s a singular commitment. Hajime has chosen to recognize only you as _dami_ for the rest of his life; he will have no other.”

“W-what?” Tooru whispered, completely dumbstruck. “I— but he—”

Tooru didn’t even know what to say. It was like his entire world had been flipped upside down. Or maybe it had always been upside down and was just now the right way up, as everything started making just a little more sense. Why Hajime always seemed so attuned to Tooru. Why he went out of his way to make sure Tooru was alright. Why he reacted so strongly to a decision that could very well take Tooru away from him in the end. All of the moments Tooru had always questioned were falling into place, and it made Tooru both indescribably happy, and unbelievably upset.

“Why didn’t he tell me!” he exclaimed. He couldn’t believe that Hajime had made this decision without talking to him. A commitment like that wasn’t supposed to be undertaken by only one side.

“He was probably too nervous,” Koushi tried to explain. “He’s not good with intimacy. You remember how he was after your first feast.”

Of course Tooru remembered. It wasn’t so different from his current situation, with Hajime avoiding him and Tooru feeling completely lost on what to do. Which was probably the exact point Koushi was trying to make. That Hajime was probably just as unsure about approaching this whole thing as Tooru now felt. That Hajime probably didn’t know what words to even say about it all.

But still, he could have made more of an attempt to convey his regard beyond just calling Tooru _dami._ He knew Tooru didn’t understand that word. Knew the gravity behind it would be lost on Tooru. He could have at least explained the word and allowed Tooru to make his own connections if Hajime couldn’t say it aloud himself. It was almost as if Hajime was afraid of how Tooru would react. Which made no sense. With how attuned Hajime was to Tooru, surely he could tell. Surely he could tell that Tooru’s own regard for him was exactly the same.

Tooru thought of Hajime’s dark hair and hazel eyes, of his gentle hands calming dragon hatchlings and his joyous glow as he flew and every little twitch and quirk in his expression that gave away the boundless ocean of care Hajime always offered without any expectations, and Tooru slowly exhaled.

They were idiots, the two of them. Complete and utter idiots that really needed to talk as soon as Hajime returned. His heart fluttered wildly as anticipation settled beneath his skin, jolting through his veins like lightning. Tooru had so many things he needed to set straight. So much he needed to say. But he could wait.

He would wait forever, just as long as his _dami_ returned to him.

 

* * *

 

The days passed slowly in the wake of Tooru’s conversation with Koushi, flowing in a steady trickle of distracted moments as Tooru attempted to busy himself with battle preparations that became harder and harder to pay attention to the longer Hajime was gone. He just couldn’t force his mind to focus on the strategies Daichi laid out before him each morning, or keep his eyes from periodically scanning both the mountain road and the sky for any sign of Hajime’s return. Not with how loud Tooru’s mind was. Not with the impatience buzzing through every nerve of his body.

Knowing now what he knew, Tooru felt Hajime’s absence from his side like an open wound, and every day he bled out a little more.

“You look tired,” Shigeru mentioned as they sorted through and cataloged all of the new supplies from Ubugawa. Food, armor, swords, soldiers; all counted and noted in the extensive list Shigeru had made to keep everything organized as it gradually accumulated. “Have you been sleeping? I can find extra blankets or pillows or something if you need it.”

Tooru smiled and shook his head. “No, the room’s fine.” Just too big without Hajime there to share his space. Too empty and quiet. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, is all.”

Shigeru didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the point. Simply lifted his eyebrows for a moment, letting Tooru know of his doubt, and then returned to his list. He was growing more confident, Tooru noted. More willing to call Tooru out on his bullshit. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad for that change or not though.

Left to his thoughts once more, Tooru looked down at the shield he held, lightly rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the sun-warmed metal in his distraction. It was a good shield; not nearly as refined as the ones Dateko crafted, but still solid and capable of handling whatever attack came its way. A worthy choice to carry into battle. Perhaps Tooru should set one aside for Hajime before they all got divided among the civilian troops. Did Hajime even use a shield? Tooru honestly couldn’t recall him ever carrying one, but then he’d only ever seen Hajime with his bow, and shields weren’t exactly ideal for archery. They were meant to be used with swords.

Wait, did Hajime own a sword? Did he own armor? No, that was a stupid question. Hajime would be using his dragon riding gear, of course. Armor would only slow him down.

Tooru sighed and dropped his head. He wished Hajime would return soon. There was so much Tooru wanted to say to him. About the war. About their relationship. Their future. And the longer Tooru held it all in, the more nervous he got about bringing it up later.

What if he’d read Hajime’s reactions incorrectly? What if Koushi was wrong about the whole thing?

“Your Majesty!” a voice yelled. Tooru’s head shot up and he looked through the stable doorway to see one of the Aoba villagers running his way, looking frantic. Tooru quickly stood and ran out to meet him halfway. “Your Majesty,” the villager wheezed. “There’s something strange on the horizon. Daichi said you needed to see it.”

Tooru didn’t need to hear any more.

He dropped the shield, ignoring the crash of its metal against the stone floor, and sprinted through the village streets to the eastern gates. Was it his father? Was it Hajime? Surely, it must be Hajime. Something appearing on the horizon could only mean the appearance of the dragon riders. Tooru refused to consider any other reason Daichi had called him for.

A crowd had already gathered at the gates by the time Tooru arrived, villagers from all over the kingdom mingling in a dense group to point and marvel at what looked to be a large flock of birds in the far distance. Tooru’s heart pounded as he pushed his way through the edge of the crowd and wove through the tight press of bodies to the very front, where Daichi and Koushi stood, several feet separating them from the villagers at their backs. Tooru took his place beside them, keeping his gaze on the approaching creatures.

“Hajime?” he softly asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it confirmed anyways, just for his own peace of mind.

To his left, Daichi nodded. “Looks like he rallied every rider we have.”

“And then some,” Koushi added. “There are too many of them to just be riders. He brought every dragon he could.”

Even that, perhaps, was an understatement. Tooru stared in silent awe at the blue horizon, which was filled from mountaintop to mountaintop, all the way across the eastern range, with the black silhouettes of the village’s dragons, all headed straight for Aoba. As they grew closer, the line converged, flocking together behind a single dragon like an arrow aimed at the crowd gathered before Aoba’s gates. They soared smoothly, without hesitation or fear, twisting together in intricate patterns that left Tooru nearly trembling with anticipation.

This. This was what he’d been missing from his plans. The sharp precision of the dragon riders that would cut straight through his father’s defenses before he even knew what was happening. The raw power that would give Tooru the advantage he needed to actually win. To set things right once more.

An exhilarated grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as the dragons came close enough to truly be visible. There were several loud gasps from the crowd behind him, followed soon after by the cacophony of swears and exclamations about the sudden appearance of creatures most of the villagers had only known from folk tales.

Tooru blocked all of that out. He kept his focus on the two dragons leading the group, blue and grey spiraling together in some sort of aerial dance over the tree tops and burnt crops, like satin ribbons fluttering through the breeze, all the way to the ground just before Tooru, where they landed with serpentine grace in the soft soil of the Aoba fields and stared down at Tooru with their jewel-toned eyes.

Tooru nodded his greetings at the two dragons, first to Yanwehn and then to Thehtayan, acknowledging them with fondness and respect as the other dragons started landing all around them. Yanwehn huffed and tossed his head, conveying his displeasure with a violent thrash of his spiked tail. Probably in protest of their extended separation. Yanwehn was possessive of Tooru’s attention. He must have gone crazy in the near four weeks Tooru had been absent, which meant Tooru would need to spend some quality time with his dragon later that night.

For the moment, however, he turned his attention to figure on Thehtayan’s back, who stroked a gloved hand down his dragon’s neck before sliding from his saddle to the ground.

“Hajime,” Tooru said, relief thick in his voice. He lifted a hand to his heart, his eyes, and then out before him in the village’s usual greeting as he added, _“Ahn bremayoht. Zeh sulohahn rehni yoht.”_

Hajime repeated the gesture, but it lacked its usual polish. His eyes scanned over Tooru as if taking inventory, making sure Tooru was hale and whole, expression tired and far, far too solemn for Tooru’s liking. Had Hajime gotten any rest at all since they last saw each other? The heavy bags beneath his eyes seemed to indicate otherwise.

 _“Ahni Devayan,”_ Hajime greeted, dropping to a knee with his head bowed and his right fist pressed over his heart. A shiver traveled down Tooru’s spine seeing Hajime bowing before him, offering obeisance to Tooru as a knight to his King. _“E dea vee leh juhrayoht.”_

Tooru sucked in a sharp breath and lifted his head, noticing for the first time that the other dragon riders had followed Hajime’s example and dropped to their knees with hands over their hearts. Even their dragons lowered their heads in their own version of a bow. All of them, young and old, pledging to Tooru their loyalty and lives through such a simple gesture.

 _“E dea vee leh juhrayoht,”_ they repeated in chorus. Their words held all their determination, their trust, their hope. Every wish they carried for this new world Tooru had promised to create from the ashes of his father’s rule.

Tooru swallowed thickly and lifted his head high, feeling their words like a weight over his shoulders. This was what he was fighting for. What he'd sworn to protect for so many years. Silently, he prayed for the strength to carry their hopes. To uphold their sacred trust. To keep them safe.

A good King, he knew, would do no less than that.

Tooru would do no less. He’d be good for them. He’d protect them.

He would.

_He would._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO, SO SORRY. I TRULY DIDN'T MEAN TO LEAVE THIS HANGING FOR SO LONG. THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING. I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER FOR THE FINAL CHAPTERS OF THIS. I LOVE ALL OF YOU.  
> (Also, if you haven't yet seen, I posted the first half of my astronaut au! You should go check it out!)
> 
> My friend Stevie (@Blue_Sails) made some incredible storyboards for the last scene in this chapter!!! Go check them out!!!!  
> [ Part 1](https://twitter.com/Blue_Sails/status/829494468550262786)  
> [ Part 2](https://twitter.com/Blue_Sails/status/857293316819472399)  
> [ Part 3](https://twitter.com/Blue_Sails/status/870762848762376195)
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
> "Juhlan! Kertcha! Vihtyohn dehna wynn? Jusheeyohn lahl kip!”  
> Bastard. Asshole. Is your head empty? Hold your tongue for once!
> 
> “Wiyr! Rehniahn sci vihtahn locht!”  
> Stop. I know what I’m doing.
> 
> “Lochtayohn?”  
> Do you?
> 
> “Yohn viht ekhla sol! Ahn fayrahni di brehmahn sehfi!”  
> You’re so dumb. I regret the day we met.
> 
> "Vee!" “Juhlan! Yoht juhlan! Nunc yoht lochta shilahn!”  
> Good! Bastard! You bastard! Don’t make me worry!
> 
> “Bretalli, dami,”  
> Be safe, beloved
> 
> “E dea viht vee”  
> God be praised
> 
> “Ahn bremayoht. Zeh sulohahn rehni yoht.”  
> I greet you. It warms me to see you.
> 
> “Ahni Devayan.” “E dea vee leh juhrayoht.”  
> My King. God bless and be with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru was the rightful king. This was what he was born for. 
> 
> And Hajime… Hajime was born to help him reclaim that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME MORE INCREDIBLE FANART THANKS TO TALLI. [THIS TIME OF PRINCE TOORU](https://twitter.com/tallihoozo/status/787461513858646016)

Hajime stood at the edge of Aoba’s town square and watched as Tooru took a crowd of townsfolk through a few easy sword exercises while Yanwehn napped in the corner behind him.

He’d never before seen Tooru actually handle a sword, other than when he carried it from his hip or sharpened it by the firelight on peaceful evenings. Watching him now, Hajime was both entranced and disturbed. Tooru moved through the motions like a dancer, lithe and poised and dangerous, the sword in his hand acting as an extension of his own arm. He was clearly a master in this art. At ease in a way Hajime had never seen in all the months he had known Tooru. Though Hajime recognized Tooru as the rightful heir to the throne, though he’d believed in Tooru’s claim from the moment Tooru explained how he’d come into possession of the red and orange pendant still hanging about his neck, it was only now that Hajime could actually see the proof before his own eyes. Could see the confidence, the majesty, the power bred and trained into Tooru’s very bones.

If Hajime held any doubts as to Tooru’s identity, just watching his swordplay would have been enough to dismiss them from his mind. Tooru was the rightful king. This was what he was born for.

And Hajime… Hajime was born to help him reclaim that place.

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” a voice asked beside him. Hajime glanced over and saw Daichi settle into a spot at his side, eyes fixed on Tooru and the villagers practicing with him. “He’s truly taken on the mantle of royalty here.”

Hajime followed his gaze, saw how Tooru had stopped his demonstration to instead observe and correct the attempts of those with him, noticed how the villagers listened with complete focus and respect, and nodded.

“A lot has changed since I left,” he admitted. More than Hajime had expected, and far more than he’d even thought possible in only a week’s time, even with the support of the rest of the kingdom. “I guess Tooru just needed a chance to take control of things.”

“Or maybe he felt he had to prove something to someone,” Daichi countered, glancing Hajime’s way.

Hajime stiffened, but refused to acknowledge the comment. He knew exactly what Daichi was hinting at, remembered the fight between himself and Tooru that had led him back to the village with all speed, but he doubted that’s what caused such a change. He didn’t have that much influence, and this— the crowd, the training, the conviction that covered the village like a giant blanket— was all Tooru’s own doing. No one else could have inspired all of this. No one.

Across the square, Tooru paused to clasp someone’s shoulder and laugh at some comment they made. The sound attracted the attention of everyone around them, all seeming to turn and gravitate towards Tooru like moths to a flame. And Hajime could empathize, because he did the exact same thing. He was drawn to Tooru just as strongly as the rest of them.

“He trained them well while you were gone,” Daichi told him. He grinned and nudged Hajime’s elbow. “Didn’t want to fall behind when he learned where you disappeared to. And now we have a full army.”

Hajime tilted his head to the side, weighing Daichi’s words. The mix of pride and determination in his tone. “You think we could go to war.”

“Not only that we could, but that we _should_ ,” Daichi said. He nodded at the group practicing in the square and added, “Our supporters are ready. And every day we wait is another day the King has to prepare. Tooru agrees with me.”

“Of course he does,” Hajime muttered.

Tooru had been anxious to go to war long before they’d even come to Aoba, desire only made stronger by what they saw and experienced here. That’s why Hajime had raced back home that night he and Tooru had fought. Why he’d barely slept in his haste to get home. Why he’d gathered every dragon rider he possibly could for the upcoming battles. Because he knew, once Tooru had openly declared his intent, there was no way for Hajime to prevent what was about to occur, no matter how much he wanted to. Tooru had set into motion the wheels of fate with his declaration, and they would keep turning and turning and turning, bringing war ever closer to their makeshift army.

Hajime had no way of stopping it. He could only endure, and offer help where he was able. Could only hope they’d come out victorious in the end. And for that, Tooru needed every advantage.

Hajime sighed. “If we’re going to do this,” he began, “then there’s one more thing we have to do.”

Daichi looked at him in confusion, and Hajime pointed at Yanwehn, who was just beginning to rouse from his nap, one of his amber eyes tracking the movements of his rider. When Tooru walked within range, Yanwehn blew a puff of steam that engulfed Tooru up to his waist while Tooru squawked and glared at the dragon. Hajime couldn’t really tell from this distance, but it seemed to him that Yanwehn, trouble maker that he was, almost grinned at this reaction.

“Ah,” Daichi said in understanding. “The bond.”

Hajime nodded.

It was the last step to truly becoming a dragon rider in their village. Choosing and being chosen by a dragon, and forging a lifelong bond that would tie dragon and rider together in both mind and soul. A partnership that could never be broken. And one that would be indispensable on the battlefield, where the chaos could separate dragon and rider before they even realized what happened.

Tooru needed that bond with Yanwehn. It was the best chance for Tooru’s survival. And that, above all else, was what Hajime cared for most.

 

* * *

 

“Remember what I told you,” Hajime said as he led Tooru through the village gates to the blackened fields, where a crowd of familiar dragon riders stood waiting with their dragons in the golden glow of the setting sun. “There’s no reason the bond won’t form, considering how attached you and Yanwehn already are, but take your time with it. Don’t rush through this.”

“Rush? Me? I would never.”

Hajime leveled him with a flat stare. “That isn’t reassuring at all.”

Tooru just laughed.

It wasn’t as if Hajime didn’t have a point though, and Tooru knew that well. Patience wasn’t his strong suit in the first place, and every passing day that they didn’t spend marching toward the capital only made it worse. He’d spent a good portion of his life just waiting for the chance to replace his father on the throne. He was tired of waiting. Of letting his father’s tyranny continue without any resistance. And all of that impatience was clearly visible in the hurried way he went through his day. The constant need for movement. The anxiety thrumming just beneath his skin.

But all of that impatience he normally felt wasn’t there now. It was replaced by a strange calm and slight tinge of nervousness.

Tooru folded his arms behind his back and glanced at Hajime from the corner of his eyes. The light of the setting sun played across his bronze skin and highlighted the stern set of his mouth, the tense line of his jaw, the dark shadows beneath his eyes that no amount of sleep could seem to erase. Tooru wondered just how much sleep Hajime had been getting since that night they fought. He couldn’t guess at all. Even now that he was back in Aoba, he had yet to return to their shared room, choosing instead to stay with some of the other dragon riders that had set up camp with their dragons outside the walls of the village. And during the day he kept himself so busy that Tooru could never find the chance to pull him aside to ask. It made something inside him ache to think of how hard Hajime was working himself, and all for their cause’s sake. All for Tooru’s sake.

That thought sent flutters through his stomach, and he couldn’t help but to recall the conversation he’d had with Koushi that one night while Hajime was away.

“A singular commitment,” Koushi had told him. “Hajime has chosen to recognize only you as _dami_ for the rest of his life; he will have no other.”

Tooru swallowed and looked away, turning his eyes to the crowd of riders and dragons instead. The weight of Hajime’s commitment and care and worry was like a large boulder inside his stomach. Had been that way ever since Tooru had first found out what _dami_ truly meant, and would probably remain so until Tooru could sit down and talk to Hajime. Clear up some misunderstandings. Ask to share Hajime’s devotion in equal part.

But now wasn’t the time for such a conversation. Nor the place. Every eye of every rider and dragon was trained upon the pair of them as they approached, watching with an air of solemnity and expectation that Tooru had only ever felt in the halls of the royal court, right before an important ceremony was about to occur.

Hajime stopped at the edge of the crowd and took his spot among the riders, but not before giving Tooru a brief, encouraging smile. From here on, Tooru would continue on alone. He’d have to rely only on himself and on Yanwehn to get through the ceremony. That was a little nerve-wracking.

Taking a deep breath, Tooru lifted his chin and walked through the crowd, boots sinking through the loose soil and ash with every step, to reach the open field where his dragon waited. Yanwehn swished his tail in impatience. The spikes kicked up small clods of dirt that flew a few feet across the field before landing with muffled thuds. Keeping his amber eyes locked on Tooru, Yanwehn tilted his head and flexed the wings on his back, as if preparing himself to take flight. But that wouldn’t happen just yet. Not until their permanent bond had been forged and cemented. And then— and only then— would they take to the skies with the rest of the dragon riders. Or so Hajime had briefly explained that morning.

Tooru didn’t know the specifics of what was about to happen, if he was being honest. He and Hajime had barely gotten any time to discuss any of it beyond what he needed to do and why he needed to do it. He knew that this bond was something every dragon rider eventually forged with their chosen dragon, specifically for use in times of chaos, like with the battles they would soon be entering. He knew that the bond wasn’t exactly a mind link, but more like the creation of a rope either one could tug on and follow if they ever got separated. That it would sharpen the connection between them whenever they flew. That it would tie them together through thick and thin until one of them died.

Tooru had no hesitations about making that bond. He knew, with war hovering at their horizon, such a bond would be beneficial, and maybe even necessary, to his own survival. Even if that weren’t the case, Tooru would have been willing to make the bond with Yanwehn anyways.

The blue dragon was willful, stubborn, self-assured, reckless. He listened only to those he trusted, and only when he felt those directions made sense. Beholden only to himself. But then Tooru was the same way. And he couldn’t imagine a better dragon to be partnered with.

He stepped forward and stood, feet planted firmly in the soil and hands clasped in front of him, only a few feet away from Yanwehn, who dipped his head down to be level with Tooru’s gaze. There was a brief flickering of awareness at the back of his mind. A presence that felt distinctly like Yanwehn already tugging at Tooru’s consciousness. Trying to form a connection.

“Yanwehn,” Tooru addressed him, calm and direct, just as Hajime had instructed. “ _Ahni brudiyan. Ahn bremayoht leh juhwayoht vihn ahnvi. Ahndehna au yohtdehna. Mahni chim vihn ki. Hahna au wiyr._ ”

Yanwehn’s nostrils flared, his mind clearly recognizing the traditional words of bonding in what Koushi had once called the dragon language, and he huffed out a burst of hot air that fell over Tooru like a heavy blanket. Warm and familiar. Comforting.

Daichi, standing just behind him, held out a small, sheathed dagger. Tooru pulled it free by the handle, then pressed its sharp tip to the palm of his left hand, slicing a long line through the skin. Red blood beaded to the surface.

“ _Ahn bretayoht san ahni dahna,_ ” he said as he looked back up at Yanwehn and offered up his hand. “ _Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim._ ”

Tooru held Yanwehn’s gaze as confidently as he could manage, even as anxiety twisted in his gut like a snake. This was the part Tooru was hesitant about. The part Hajime hadn’t been able to explain or give advice on. Everything now depended on Yanwehn, and on how their minds would recognize each other.

Yanwehn considered Tooru’s outstretched hand for a moment, ambers eyes bright and searching. He lowered his head so his snout was only inches from Tooru’s hand, where his hot breath blew over Tooru’s palm and made the cut sting. Tooru fought the urge to close his fist and pull away. He couldn’t be nervous now. There was nothing for him to be afraid of.

He let out a deep breath at the same time that Yanwehn inhaled. Then Yanwehn blew a flame over Tooru’s hand.

It wasn’t a large flame, it was actually very small. No larger than what Tooru would expect at the end of a burning stick. The red and orange flames licked over Tooru’s skin, right across the cut he’d made in the middle of his palm, in a long, steady stream. But while Tooru had thought the fire would burn, to hurt and blister and scar, Yanwehn’s fire felt like nothing more than the whisper of heat. Something protected Tooru’s skin. Made it so that only the cut in his palm was affected as the heat and power of Yanwehn’s fire seeped into Tooru’s veins and thrummed beneath his skin. The fire became a part of him, so much so that when Tooru sucked in air it seemed his exhale would match the flame-filled breath of his dragon.

At the back of his mind, he felt something snap into place. Similar to the connection he always felt while flying with Yanwehn, but not quite as deep. Just Yanwehn’s aura hovering at the periphery of his consciousness. Present but separate, even as Yanwehn’s flames retreated from his hand. A permanent connection. Tooru shut his eyes and gently tugged on it, until his own mind was filled with words that weren’t his own.

_Ahn bretayoht san ahni sehloh, brudiyan. Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim._

———

Hajime hesitated outside the closed door of the room he shared with Tooru, unsure of whether he should go in or not. Whether Tooru would welcome his company. He remembered how he’d been back when he’d bonded with Thehtayan, and how all he’d wanted was solitude and quiet so he could reorganize his mind around the new presence he’d welcomed in. Tooru, however, was very different from Hajime. He thrived in the presence of others, naturally gravitating toward friends and crowded areas. Solitude wasn’t normally something Tooru sought out.

But perhaps he wouldn’t want to see Hajime at this moment. After all, the last time they’d been alone together they’d both walked away angry, and they hadn’t yet gotten a chance to talk about that. He wouldn’t blame Tooru for wanting nothing to do with Hajime at this moment, when Tooru was probably feeling his most vulnerable and confused, mind trying to cope with the presence of another.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Stay or leave? Risk Tooru’s anger, or leave him to figure this all out alone?

Hajime knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Tooru’s voice called through the wood. It sounded strained, and slightly distracted, though Hajime wasn’t truly surprised by that. Taking a deep breath, Hajime opened the door and peeked into the room, scanning about until he saw Tooru sitting cross-legged on his bed, struggling to wrap a roll of cloth bandages around his left palm. Tooru glanced up with a smile, which wavered and turned uncertain when he saw who had entered. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Hajime answered.

They stared at each other in silence that only seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. Hajime opened his mouth. Then shut it. He looked down at Tooru’s poorly bandaged hand.

Tooru pulled his hands further into his lap under Hajime’s scrutiny, as if trying to hide them, and gave Hajime a wry smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“I was just—” Hajime shook his head. It was probably better to keep his worries to himself for now. No need to dump them all on Tooru, or accidentally cause yet another fight. He watched Tooru fiddle with the roll of bandages in his lap and tilted his head. “Do you want help?” he asked, nodding at Tooru’s hand.

Tooru flushed and sheepishly ducked his head. But he held his hand out in a wordless invitation, and Hajime walked over to sit across from Tooru on the bed.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and he shifted to mirror Tooru’s cross-legged position, sitting close enough that their knees brushed against each other. Hajime carefully took Tooru’s hand in his own and undid the wrappings Tooru had attempted. His skin was unnaturally warm to the touch. A lingering effect of the fire that had burned into his veins. Hajime brushed his thumb over the scabbed over cut on Tooru’s palm, and Tooru flinched.

“It stings,” Tooru explained when Hajime looked up at him questioningly.

Hajime nodded. “That should fade by morning,” he said. In fact, the sting usually would have faded by this point, but Hajime had seen for himself the power that rippled between Tooru and Yanwehn. The dragon really hadn’t held anything back in their bond. “It’s good that the pain has lingered. It means your bond is strong.”

“I suppose.”

Hajime lowered his eyes and slowly wrapped the bandages around Tooru’s hand, tight enough to protect the cut from any dirt or grime, but loose enough that it could still breathe. His hands were steady and sure as they covered the wound. He’d had plenty of experience treating his own injuries during his years as a ranger, not to mention the thin strips of cloth he always used to wrap his own hand whenever he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and so he had Tooru’s hand all bandaged and cared for within moments.

Hajime didn’t let go once he had finished, however. He held onto Tooru’s hand and stared at it in complete silence. Considered Tooru’s callous-covered fingers and the strength in his arms and all he must have suffered in order to reach this moment.

“Tooru,” he started in a quiet voice. He hardly knew what to say. Every word felt heavy and clumsy on his tongue, and not at all what he wanted to express. But he needed to say something. To fix the weird tension that was still between them. “About that night, and our fight—”

“It’s alright,” Tooru interrupted. “I understand why you reacted that way, and I don’t blame you. So it’s fine, _dami_.”

Hajime repressed a shiver at the soft endearment. “You shouldn’t use words you don’t know the meaning of.” It was too much for his heart to handle.

“But I do know it’s meaning,” Tooru protested in a strained voice. His hand suddenly curled around Hajime’s and squeezed as if trying to hold onto something precious. Something he couldn’t lose. Hajime’s heart started pounding frantically against his rib cage. “Koushi explained it all to me while you were away,” Tooru said. He swept his thumb over the back of Hajime’s hand and glanced up at Hajime with an unreadable expression that made Hajime’s stomach flip. “A lot of things suddenly make sense now. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There wasn’t any point.”

“Why not?” Tooru demanded. He tugged Hajime closer and pressed his free hand to Hajime’s cheek, where Hajime had to fight to keep from leaning into the warmth. “Why not if we both want to be together?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Hajime questioned, narrowing his eyes at Tooru. “Can you tell me with confidence that you haven’t just been influenced by what Koushi said? That this sudden change of heart is something that will last? When have you ever even looked at me that way?”

Hajime thought briefly about the last village feast they’d attended, and the heady dance he’d shared with Tooru. The way the atmosphere around them had been charged with something more than excitement or enjoyment. Something that sent heat crawling across his skin, like gentle flames licking up his arms from where their skin had brushed. But no. He couldn’t use that to give himself hope. For all he knew, that electric atmosphere had only been a part of his own imagination. Tooru might not have felt anything. And even if he did, it could simply have been manipulated into existence by the warm firelight and swooping music and Hajime’s close proximity. Hajime couldn’t believe in such a shaky foundation. Emotions like that just wouldn’t last.

This was why he’d refused to tell Tooru the meaning behind ‘dami’ and all of the weight it carried. Tooru was quick to weave together grand visions inside his mind; any mention of Hajime’s feelings would cause Tooru to start imagining some sort of future together. He’d wholeheartedly believe he and Hajime were meant for one another. At least until the magic of such a relationship had vanished and all of his imaginations had crumbled into dust. Until he realized he’d never truly felt that way about Hajime in the first place.

Hajime didn’t want to risk that. The emotions had to come from Tooru himself if Hajime was ever going to trust in them. He was afraid now that what he’d wanted to avoid had happened anyways with Koushi’s explanation. He was afraid the soft, warm eyes Tooru watched him with were only that fond because of the visions Tooru had built for himself and nothing more.

“This won’t work between us,” Hajime said, turning away from Tooru. “I’m not meant for you, and we both know it.”

He was too bright, too brilliant, too… everything really. He was the sun around which everyone gravitated, burning with a fierceness few others could match, born to breathe life into this kingdom through his light. Hajime thrived in his presence, just like everyone else. But he held no place at Tooru’s side. Not the way he wanted.

Tooru sighed, still leaning close enough for his warm breath to fan over the skin of Hajime’s cheek and ear. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Hajime. You don’t see yourself the way I do,” he said with so much gentleness that Hajime felt something inside his chest squeeze up in desire. For Tooru. For affection. For everything that could be.

Looking back at Tooru, Hajime opened his mouth to argue but was effectively kept silent by the sudden pressure of Tooru’s lips against his own. He froze, tensing up even as Tooru pressed more and more into him, filling the space around him until all he could comprehend was Tooru. Until all he could feel was the heat of Tooru’s mouth, and the slide of his fingers across Hajime’s cheek, and the press of Tooru’s knees against his own.

Hajime sucked in a sharp breath, inhaling a mix of air and Tooru’s subtle pine scent, and grew almost dizzy with the sensation. He’d thought about this so much, what it’d be like, what he would feel, how it’d play out, and none of it even came close to the reality. As Tooru’s lips moved against his, and Hajime relaxed into the kiss, fire spread down his veins, boiling through his blood until every nerve was bursting with heat. As if Tooru’s radiance was burning straight into him and setting him alight.

All too soon, Tooru was pulling away, though he lingered in Hajime’s space, breaths mingling and intoxicating Hajime past all his senses. His own thoughts were chaos inside him.

“Tooru,” Hajime whispered before Tooru kissed away whatever words he’d wanted to say once more. His fingers stroked down Hajime’s skin, down his cheek and along the line of his jaw, to press against Hajime’s lower lip.

“Koushi told me that acknowledging someone as _dami_ was a lifetime commitment. That there would be no other,” he said, then dropped his hand to hold both of Hajime’s in his own. “I choose this, Hajime. And everything it implies.”

“You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I do.” Tooru lifted Hajime’s hand— his left hand, the hand with Thehtayan’s mark— and held it to his lips, pressing a lingering, burning kiss to Hajime’s scar. “ _Ahni damiyan. Ahn bremayoht leh juhwayoht vihn ahnvi. Ahndehna au yohtdehna. Mahni chim vihn ki. Hahna au wiyr_.”

Hajime closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Had Koushi taught him the weight of those words as well, or did Tooru just instinctively know they were what Hajime needed to hear? The promise they carried that bound Hajime and Tooru together just as surely as the sun was bound to the sky?

Hajime couldn’t argue against a declaration like that. Not when all of his existence was begging to take hold of it and never let go. He bowed his head and took a deep breath.

“ _Ahn bretayoht san ahni dahna. Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim,_ ” Hajime offered, hesitantly finishing the promise. Tying himself to Tooru’s path.

He still wasn’t sure if any of this would work out, if Tooru really meant what he said or if his feelings would last, but he offered no more resistance. To continue fighting against Tooru now would be like fighting his own heart. Instead, he let Tooru pull him back into another kiss and, for a moment, let himself believe.

 

* * *

 

Tooru woke up feeling unusually warm and content, and for a moment he couldn’t figure out why that was. He just wanted to hold onto that feeling and fall back asleep. To stay warm and comfortable and protected, not weighed down by the burdens of an oncoming war.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, squinting against the light that beamed through the window, and glanced to the side, right at Hajime’s sleeping face. His breath caught, heart beating against his ribs like a drum, and he tried not to move.

It wasn’t often he got to see Hajime so at peace. And he never got to see it in such close proximity. Hajime’s face was only inches from Tooru’s own, and was completely relaxed. The lines and wrinkles that so often pulled at his tanned skin were absent now. Instead his skin was smooth and soft, marred only by the scar cut across his slightly parted lips.

Tooru stared at his face and let out a slow breath. He ghosted his fingers over the warm skin of Hajime’s cheek, marveling at how young and unburdened he seemed. It made him realize just how much he’d been relying on Hajime this entire time, and how willing Hajime had been to carry all that weight. He’d never even complained.

“ _Dami_ ,” Tooru whispered, testing out the word with Hajime there beside him. A small shiver ran down his spine.

He couldn’t believe this was where he’d ended up. Back when he’d approached Hajime in Dateko, before he’d even known about dragons or Hajime’s real name, Tooru had never even dreamed of forming such a strong connection with Hajime. Or with anyone at all. Finding a way to bring down his father had always seemed more important. And it was _still_ important, but now he had a different, more personal reason to succeed. Someone to rely on and come back to.

Tooru liked the gravity of it. He liked how knowing Hajime would be there with him gave him strength.

Sighing softly, Tooru rolled onto his side and tucked himself against Hajime, curling a hand into the material of Hajime’s shirt. Hajime grunted at the movement, but didn’t wake. He simply shifted closer to Tooru’s warmth, then sighed with contentment into Tooru’s hair. The sound made Tooru smile.

This was what he wanted every morning to be, curled up with Hajime in the comfort of their bed. Safe, warm, happy. It felt _right_ to him. Crucial in a way Tooru hadn’t felt since his mother gave him her necklace and murmured those first words of Ahmsahi into his ear. It was something Tooru didn’t want to lose.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at their door, and Tooru lifted his head just in time to see the door creak open and Koushi poke his head inside.

Koushi looked around the room, first at the empty bed nearest the door, and then to the bed where Hajime and Tooru were tangled together. Tooru watched him pause for a moment, and then smile widely at the sight before they were able to meet gazes, at which point his expression grew apologetic as he gestured for Tooru to follow him outside. Clearly it was something very important, so Tooru slowly crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Hajime, and went into the hallway where Koushi was waiting.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said once Tooru had shut the door and turned his attention to Koushi. “We got a couple of… unexpected visitors this morning who demanded to see you. They’re with Daichi now, but we thought it’d be better to have you meet them before everyone else woke up. We’re not really sure of their intentions or how the others will react to them.”

“King’s Guard?” Tooru guessed, then wrinkled his nose when Koushi nodded.

This was unexpected. Given the distance from Aoba to the Capital, Tooru had hardly expected any sort of messengers from his father, even if the soldier they’d sent to him had traveled day and night on horseback to reach the castle. Either his father was closer to Aoba than he had thought, or these visitors had different goals entirely. Tooru wasn’t really sure which he preferred.

“I’ll grab my boots and sword, and then we can go,” he said. Koushi nodded and settled back against the wall until Tooru was ready.

They walked from Shigeru’s inn down the quiet streets of Aoba to the eastern gates, where Tooru could see two figures kneeling between Daichi and Kentarou, even from a distance. Thankfully, no one else in the town appeared to be awake yet, or at least not yet aware of what was happening. Tooru didn’t really want to have this conversation in front of a crowd of people, nor to be influenced in his response by their attitudes.

The uniforms of the two figures definitely belonged to the rank of the King’s Guard, and as he walked closer Tooru began picking out distinct features in both of their faces. They looked somewhat familiar. Like he had known them long ago but had missed several important changes. It took him several moments to place them.

“Yuutaro,” Tooru said, looking at the soldier on the left. Then he glanced to the right. “Akira. It’s been a long time.”

Yuutaro gasped. “So it _is_ you,” he whispered in awe. Almost in reverence. Like he couldn’t believe Tooru was truly there, standing before him. “We’d heard the rumors, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe them. We thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m still alive.”

Yuutaro fell silent and nodded. He seemed to be in a daze, eyes wide and clouded, lost in his own thoughts. Akira, as usual, looked unaffected, but even after years apart Tooru could still read the subtle nuances in his expression. All that time training together under his father’s tutelage, sparring and complaining and relying on one another, had made Tooru keenly aware of what every twitch and line in both their faces meant. He could still read them as easily as before, and what he read now in their expressions was disbelief. Disbelief and fear and, interestingly enough, hope.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked, tilting his head. “The last I’d heard, you’d been made Tobio’s training partners. Why aren’t you there with his highness, the pretender prince?”

Yuutaro sneered. “Tobio is not my prince. And he’ll never be my king.”

“We came to join you,” Akira answered plainly. “We’ll fight if you’ll take us.”

His words were cool, though Tooru caught the brief darkening of his expression that echoed Yuutaro’s statement before Akira’s blank mask returned. Clearly something had happened there in the years Tooru had been hiding to sour their opinion on the current monarchy. Something Tooru might be able to use to his advantage if others felt the same way they did.

Daichi looked at Tooru with a question in his eyes, watching as Tooru ran a hand through his hair and considered what his old friends had said. “ _Yiln rehtaniyoht_?” he asked, using Ahmsahi so the others wouldn’t understand.

Tooru stared at the two soldiers in silence for a few moments more, then answered, “I trust them,” which made everyone relax and grow more comfortable. More willing to talk.

Yuutaro and Akira were allowed to stand, though Daichi held onto their weapons just as a precaution. This didn’t seem to bother either of them, however, which made Tooru more confident in his decision. Time had treated both of his old friends well though. Now that they were standing, Tooru could see how they’d grown and matured from the young, awkward boys he used to train with. They’d become men in his absence— strong, well-trained men that would help his cause immensely. Men that could give him the information they needed.

“What can you tell me of my father’s army?” he asked as he led them through the gates and into the village. “Does he know of my challenge? Has he prepared?”

Yuutaro shook his head. “The Capital knows you’re alive and building an army, but not your father. At least not when we left. He was reviewing the troops in the south and so wasn’t there to hear your messenger.”

“He doesn’t know?” Daichi repeated quickly. Urgently. “You mean he’s completely unprepared?”

“Tobio was attempting to rally the troops in the King’s absence, but wasn’t having much luck,” Akira answered. Beside him, Yuutaro grinned.

“Not many of the soldiers answer to him willingly, you see.”

Tooru thought about this and what it might mean for his chances of success. By now, the news of Tooru’s campaign had probably spread from the Capital to his father’s position in the south, and he’d be hurrying back to ready his defense. But if Tooru marched now, his father wouldn’t have much time to prepare. They’d be able to strike before his father was ready. And, if what Yuutaro and Akira had mentioned was true, Tooru might be able to draw some soldiers from his father’s ranks into his own, weakening his father’s defenses further still.

It was an opportunity Tooru couldn’t afford to pass up. Not with so much at stake. Any hesitation and he might lose his advantage. He had to act now, when his troops were ready and his chances were greatest. Furthermore, he needed to act before his father caught wind of the dragons in his ranks. There was no way that news had reached him yet, and if Tooru could keep it from his ears then victory was almost surely theirs. Tooru truly couldn’t wait any longer.

Glancing over, he saw the same understanding dawn across Daichi and Koushi’s faces. They all knew what this information meant.

“Get everything packed and prepared,” he told them. “Tomorrow, we march.”

 

* * *

 

Hajime stood with Koushi and Daichi at the gates of Aoba and watched the wagons of supplies and crowds of civilians pass through the gates and march onward toward the Capital. Most of the faces he was most familiar with weren’t among the travelers. The dragon riders were all helping with final preparations and battle plans, content to leave after everyone else as the speed of their dragons would help them quickly regain ground. These troops were led instead by the officers Tooru had appointed, with Shigeru taking point and the others scattered amongst the rest of their charges.

Tooru was across from him, observing everything from his perch on Yanwehn’s back. He was in full dragon rider gear, his thick, leather armor and dragon hide pads all strapped perfectly into place and making him look more imposing and regal than ever. Especially with the thin, golden circlet—secretly saved from his days as the crown prince— wrapped about his head. It glimmered in the sunlight like some sort of ethereal halo, painting Tooru as some divine figure. Beautiful and untouchable. Blessed by the heavens.

He’d helped Tooru get ready earlier that morning; helped adjust his armor and assuaged his worries with reminders of how prepared they were to fight. How incredibly prepared Tooru had made their makeshift army all on his own. Hajime noticed now how all of them looked to Tooru as they passed and straightened into postures that exuded confidence. They trusted in him, drew their strength from him, would gladly die for him. Just as Hajime would.

Watching all of this beside him, Koushi let out a long whistle. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he asked in a soft voice. “I’ve always known he was royal, but now I can actually see it. He truly looks like a king.”

Hajime quietly nodded in agreement, but his heart sank.

Koushi was right. Tooru looked like a king. And not only that, but he was being treated as one too. Already these people looked to him for guidance and decisions, and when all of this was over, they would crown him and place all their hopes on him and his successors. On the heirs they’d expect Tooru to have. Heirs Hajime could never give to him, no matter how they felt for one another.

In all the activity of the past month, that was something Hajime had forgotten. And now, with the memory of Tooru’s kiss still burning against his lips, Hajime wanted to strangle himself for allowing his mind to forget. For allowing hope to take root in his heart for what could never be.

Tooru was born to be a king, with all that the position implied.

And Hajime… Hajime was born to help him reclaim that place. But he had no real future at Tooru’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Ahni brudiyan. Ahn bremayoht leh juhwayoht vihn ahnvi. Ahndehna au yohtdehna. Mahni chim vihn ki. Hahna au wiyr.”
> 
> My broodmate. I greet you and embrace you as myself. My mind to your mind. Our path as one. Now to the end.
> 
> "Ahn bretayoht san ahni dahna. Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim."
> 
> I trust you with my blood. I promise you my path (life).
> 
> "Ahn bretayoht san ahni sehloh, brudiyan. Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim."
> 
> I trust you with my fire, broodmate. I promise you my path (life).
> 
> “Ahni damiyan. Ahn bremayoht leh juhwayoht vihn ahnvi. Ahndehna au yohtdehna. Mahni chim vihn ki. Hahna au wiyr.”/“Ahn bretayoht san ahni dahna. Ahn sahrehnyoht ahni chim,”
> 
> My beloved/mate. I greet you and embrace you as myself. My mind to your mind. Our path as one. Now to the end./ I trust you with my blood. I promise you my path (life).
> 
> “Yiln rehtaniyoht?” 
> 
> What do you think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could do this. He could win and take back the throne. He could protect his people. Make things better for them.
> 
> And, for him, that was everything.

Tooru stood at the head of the wooden table and looked down at all of the maps and pieces of parchment spread across its surface. He trailed his fingers across the table, over all the unpolished bumps and scratches that were so common in taverns like this one where they’d set up their war room, and snagged the corner of one of the pages, pulling it closer to read the scrawl cataloging his army’s newest acquisitions— mainly, the thousands of citizens and soldiers that had joined their campaign as they marched and all of the weaponry that came with them.

In all honesty, the growth of his forces over the past week of travel had taken Tooru by surprise. He’d known his countrymen were unhappy with his father’s rule, and had known that many of them would be willing to fight if given the chance, but it seemed to Tooru, as they passed through town after town on their way to the Capital, that every able-bodied fighter had stepped forward to join their cause, both trained and untrained. Even the majority of the King’s Guard in each town they passed through had chosen to pledge their fealty to Tooru, offering up their swords for his use just as Yuutarou and Akira had back in Aoba. The response his cause had garnered left him stunned. It was far more than he had ever expected or planned for, which was now part of his problem.

“There are too many of us to set up base in the Capital,” Daichi said, then splayed a hand across the giant map that took up the center of the table. “We’ll overrun the city with our numbers. The residents will have no place to sleep, nothing to eat, and we’ll have nowhere to retreat. If things go poorly, the streets will be too crowded. The dragon riders could escape, but the others would be trapped.”

Tooru shook his head. “Unacceptable.” He couldn’t allow such a risk.

“What about the field leading up to the castle?” Koushi offered. “It’s large enough to hold our troops. We could set up like we did here, with our operation center in the town and our troops in the surrounding field.”

“But we’d still have the city at our backs and nowhere else to go,” Daichi countered.

“If we made a plan and set up escape routes through the streets—”

“For all our thousands of soldiers? It’d move at a snail’s pace. That won’t be enough.”

“What else can we do though, Daichi?”

Tooru kept silent as Daichi and Koushi continued debating, keeping his eyes glued to the table, on all the maps and figures and plans, and trying to develop a plan of action. From what he was seeing, he had to agree with Daichi. Their original plan of using the Capital as their base was impractical now that their numbers had expanded so much. It was too much of a drain on the city’s resources, and put both its residents and his fighters at too much of a risk. Left them all too vulnerable in case things went wrong, as he knew they very well could.

He knew what his father would do in this situation. He’d seen enough of his father’s wars and had been subject to enough heated lectures to know just how little the lives of their people meant to his father. If it meant winning the battle, he’d send his troops into the most dangerous of situations without regrets or hesitation, no matter what the cost. To him, his soldiers were nothing more than pawns— easily sacrificed and thrown away in pursuit of power.

But Tooru wasn’t his father. Maybe at one point, back when he was heir apparent and living in the toxic atmosphere of his father’s court, he held a similar opinion, but living among his people had changed all of that. Made him see just how valuable and necessary the common people were compared to the grandiose ignorance of the court. And Tooru refused to send his supporters into danger without giving them a chance to return alive. This wasn’t just his fight; it was their fight too. Their fight to reclaim their country, to right the wrongs his father had inflicted, to be seen as more than just chattel and pawns. Tooru might be seen as the head of their rebellion, but the people were its lifeblood, and Tooru would protect that with everything he had.

“We’re sure to win though, with all the support we have.”

“That’s not true,” Tooru finally said. He looked up at Koushi, giving him a grim smile, and continued, “Victory is never certain. We might still lose this, even with our numbers.”

After all, dragons and dragon riders had once been extremely common throughout the Kingdom, and yet they had nearly been wiped out by his father’s comparatively smaller forces. There was no proof that such a feat couldn’t happen again. Victory was all about strategy, about their battlefield tactics, the advantages they could claim. Not about their numbers.

He ran his hand over the Capital’s map, through the twisting streets and across the expansive field between the city’s border and the castle. The land would become their battlefield, of that he was sure. However, Daichi’s point about the city and retreat meant they couldn’t set up camp there. And the wide river that cut across the land behind the castle meant they couldn’t seek an advantageous spot away from the city either. They were caught between the Capital and the river, and that really only left them with one feasible option.

“Gather all our best dragon riders,” he said to Daichi and Koushi. “We’re going to take the castle."

 

* * *

 

Tooru leaned into the night air, pressing himself close to Yanwehn’s back as they flew through the cloud cover toward the castle. The cold, damp air bit at his cheeks and made his eyes water, making it difficult to see where they were headed. But he didn’t really need to see. He knew where the castle lay in relation to the moon and land, and he let that deeply ingrained knowledge guide their path, relaying the information to Yanwehn through their newly forged bond. Yanwehn could see for the both of them, and he corrected their path whenever they strayed off course without any prompting from Tooru.

The other dragon riders flew behind them, taking their bearing from Yanwehn’s path. As usual, Hajime took position immediately behind Tooru, so close Tooru only needed to look over his shoulder to meet Hajime’s eyes. There was no racing or fancy maneuvers between them this time. The situation at hand was too serious to allow any lapse in focus, and that heavy atmosphere surrounded the entire group as they covered the last few miles of their journey and dove beneath the cloud line.

The land spread out beneath them in a wide, flat field, completely dark save for the pinpricks of light behind them that made up the Capital and the few spots of light before them that came from the castle’s lanterns. With the castle in sight, the group no longer needed Tooru to act as guide, and small groups of riders began to break off from the main ground to circle around the other side of the castle, as they had planned. Issei would lead the charge on the western wall, while Takahiro took the eastern wall, and Tooru and Hajime would round it out by taking the northern and southern walls respectively. They would be swift, they would be silent, and they would take control of the castle before the guards even realized they were under attack.

Luck was with them. According to Akira and Yuutarou, who had been scouting out the situation in the Capital, Tooru’s father still had yet to return from his review in the south, which meant the castle was left almost completely undefended. All of the castle’s best soldiers would be traveling with his father, and those that were left behind would be spread so thinly across the battlements that dropping in during the night would be no issue. The only true spot of trouble they might face was Tobio, but if what Akira and Yuutarou had told him when they first appeared was true, then even Tobio would be no match for Tooru. A commander without an army was no threat at all.

There was a gust of wind from his side, and Tooru glanced over to see Hajime and Thehtayan coming up alongside him. Clothed completely in black beneath his brown, leather armor, he blended almost perfectly into the night sky. His eyes, though, were bright with determination, and the small bit of moonlight breaking through the clouds overhead illuminate the confident grin that Hajime sent his way. A grin that bolstered Tooru’s faith in this plan more than anything else. He felt a fierce pride bubble up inside of him like boiling water, helping him to relax and let go of his anxieties. This plan would work, he was sure of it. They would succeed.

An answering spike of conviction came through his link with Yanwehn, along with an eagerness that made Tooru turn away from Hajime to focus on their approaching target. The castle was fast coming upon them. They were just over a mile away from the castle, which meant it was time for Tooru to prepare. And for Hajime to break away to take his own wall. Looking back at Hajime, Tooru offered the dragon rider’s salute, head bowed and right fist pressed to the middle of his chest, then watched Hajime return the salute and bank off to the side on Thehtayan’s back. He’d swoop around with his team to take the southern wall from opposite side. Tooru and his team continued along their already established trajectory.

Yanwehn tilted forward, gliding downward to a more manageable height. As they drew closer, Tooru took in the lack of guards standing along the battlement. Only two soldiers where there would usually be four or five. Easy enough to handle, even with only three other dragon riders behind him.

 _Alright,_ he thought at Yanwehn as he unhooked his feet from the stirrups and lifted himself from his seat. _Viht dewynnyoht. Viht bretalliyoht._

Yanwehn didn’t answer in words, but Tooru felt a wave of emotion from his dragon that seemed to echo Tooru’s words. Tooru shut his eyes for a moment and let that feeling wash over him. Then, with one hand looped securely in the reins, he swung one leg over so they were both dangling on one side while he leaned his torso into the saddle’s seat. The battlements of the castle passed beneath his feet, and he let himself drop.

There was a soft thump as his feet hit the stone, followed by similar thumps as the other dragon riders landed behind him. His momentum pushed him into a forward roll, and when he got back to his feet he found a young guard staring at them with shock. Tooru pulled his sword from the scabbard on his belt and pointed it at the guard, who promptly dropped his weapons and lifted his hands in surrender. No resistance whatsoever.

“Are there any others?” he demanded. The young boy shook his head.

“It’s just me on this wall, sir. And one guard on each of the others.”

“Check his story,” Tooru ordered, not quite believing the soldier’s words. Even in times of peace, there would be more than four soldiers guarding the walls. The castle was too precious, too sacred, to be left in such a vulnerable position.

The other dragon riders that were with Tooru ran off with weapons bared to scout out the area, leaving Tooru all alone with the young guard. This was possibly unwise, but Tooru was confident in his abilities to react to and neutralize any threats that might come up on him. He’d trained for years with the best soldiers in his father’s army before fleeing the castle, learning all he could and honing his skills to a degree that made him equal to any commander in the King’s Guard. And these soldiers his father had left behind were a far cry from the soldiers he’d trained with. They wouldn’t be difficult to defend against except in large numbers.

The young soldier seemed to understand the skill level he was dealing with as he made no moves to either pick up his sword or start a fistfight once he and Tooru were alone. He simply stood, eyeing Tooru’s sword with wariness, but otherwise completely complacent, which worked just fine for Tooru. If the other walls were this easy to capture, then the castle would be theirs in a matter of moments. He could focus on more important issues. And more important people.

Tooru considered the guard and wondered whether he might be willing to give Tooru the information he needed. Yuutarou and Akira had said the soldiers wouldn’t answer to Tobio willingly; how far did that reluctance extend?

He lowered his sword just slightly, so that it was still a threat but a less intimidating one, and asked, “Where is Tobio?”

“Gone,” a voice answered behind him. Tooru turned, swinging his sword around and brandishing it at this new figure, who bowed his familiar head in a gesture of surrender as he continued, “Fled last night when the castle guard turned on him. Even he knows when a battle is lost.”

“Keiji,” Tooru breathed at the sight of the Marquess and his guard captain, Koutarou.

The two of them were flanked by a pair of dragon riders, with two other dragon riders holding their captives’ wrists from behind. They seemed completely unperturbed by their detainment, however. As expected, Keiji regarded Tooru with a cool expression on his face, his pleasure at seeing Tooru alive only given away by the warmth in his eyes. Koutarou, on the other hand, beamed at him, wide smile across his face and a little bounce in his step, just as he always had when Tooru still lived at court.

Tooru waved the other dragon riders away. He and Keiji held a long history of friendship together, he had no reason to doubt Keiji’s loyalty. After all, Keiji was the one to warn him about the wine the night he fled the castle, and Koutarou had been the one to distract the guards long enough to allow Tooru to get away. Of anyone in the castle, Keiji and Koutarou were the ones Tooru trusted most, and seeing them again now filled Tooru with the deepest sense of gratitude and affection.

He sheathed his sword, then walked over and embraced the two of them in a fierce hug. Koutarou laughed in his ear, as if Tooru’s reaction was the silliest thing in the world, but Tooru could feel both their hands trembling against his back. It occurred to him that they probably hadn’t known whether Tooru actually survived or not until hearing the news of his rebellion. He owed these men his life, yet they’d probably thought him dead just like everyone else until a few weeks ago.

Tooru let them go and stepped back to look them over. Koutarou had grown even taller in his absence, and had completely filled out in his arms and broad shoulders. He looked every inch the dangerous warrior Tooru knew him to be, save for the lighthearted grin and erratic streaked hair. And Keiji now held himself with confidence. Tooru remembered how he’d inherited his title as Marquess only a few months before Tooru had fled, and how he’d always seemed to walk with the weight of the world dragging down his head and shoulders, like he’d been given a position that was too much for him to fill. Now Keiji faced him with his shoulders back and head held high.

“My men and I are at your service,” he said, bowing his head in fealty to Tooru as Koutarou sunk all the way down to one knee. Tooru didn’t let them bow for long. He gestured for Koutarou to rise, then clasped Keiji’s shoulders and grinned. Keiji, for once, smiled right back at him. “It is truly good to see you again, my Prince.”

“As it is good to see you, my friend,” Tooru replied. “I wouldn’t be here now if not for you. I owe you two everything.”

Keiji shook his head. “You owe us nothing. It was the right thing to do as people,” he assured. Then smiled again and amended, “As friends.”

Tooru felt his throat close up with emotions. It had been so long since he’d been able to talk with Keiji like this, to be sure of his support and friendship, to have Keiji on his side. Tooru didn’t know what else he could say. No words were enough to convey his appreciation.

He cleared his throat and looked off to the side, catching the eye of one of the dragon riders. “Go tell the others to stand down. The castle is ours,” he told her. It was something of a relief for him to say, and probably an even bigger relief for the others to hear— that their first task of this war had been completed successfully. She nodded, then hurried off, and Tooru turned to Keiji once more. Tilting his head, he gestured for Keiji to follow him, and together they walked across the wall to the castle door. “So Tobio ran off then?” he asked. “I hope not to join my father.”

“He was headed north. Toward the Black Forest.”

Tooru considered that for a moment. The Black Forest covered the northern border of the kingdom and was only occupied by a few scattered villages— mostly woodcutters and craftsmen. They had no reason to protest Tooru’s rule, and so Tobio probably wouldn’t find any allies there. Or anywhere else along the way, to be honest. Tooru already held most of the north’s loyalty. It was a neutral zone then, unless Tobio attempted traveling through the woods to the neighboring kingdom. And then it was unlikely Tobio would survive such a trip.

“Let’s leave him to make his own way,” Tooru decided. Tobio was more of a threat himself than to Tooru right now, and not who Tooru needed to be focused on. He needed to keep all of his resources in one place. At least until this war was over. “Talk to me about our assets. Are you the only noble willing to fight for me?”

Keiji shook his head. “Many are willing, but they’re waiting to see whether you are yourself or an impostor before declaring to fight,” he explained. Tooru couldn’t blame them. Where his father was concerned, caution was always advised. Especially with such a life-altering event at hand.

“We can wait for them. Their soldiers are not crucial to me with the current size of my army.” Though having more experienced fighters would be an advantage, he had to admit. He’d trained the villagers as well as he could, but that was no replacement for soldiers that had trained all their lives and knew how to function in battle.

“Kenma and Tetsurou have declared for you already. Their men are camped out in the west field, by the edge of the river.”

Tooru nodded, mentally calculating this addition to his forces. As a marquess and duke respectively, Kenma and Tetsurou both commanded forces of around a thousand men at least. Tetsurou probably had closer to two thousand men, actually, as his was the largest dukedom in the kingdom. Tooru could just imagine their troops camped alongside the river, filling the field with their tents and supplies. And then there was Keiji’s force within the castle itself, which Tooru was sure numbered well above one thousand. A formidable force altogether, and that wasn’t even counting all of the fighters Tooru himself had gathered. With Kenma and Tetsurou’s forces camped on one side, and Tooru’s camped on the other, their soldiers would fill the surrounding field. There’d be no path left unguarded that his father could take advantage of.

Tooru couldn’t let that knowledge get to his head, though. He couldn’t let himself to be distracted and allow his defenses to fall apart from overconfidence. Such conceit was the surest way of losing this war. Tooru needed to keep all of this in perspective. Needed to stay focused.

But even so, glancing over the battlements to the field below, knowing his army would fill it with a sea of tents and supplies and dragons by morning, fanned a small spark of hope into a bright flame. He could do this. He could win and take back the throne. He could protect his people. Make things better for them.

And, for him, that was everything.

 

* * *

 

It was strange, Hajime had to admit, being in the place Tooru had grown up in. Especially knowing the sort of childhood Tooru had experienced, all the pain his father had inflicted, all the loss he’d felt within these stone walls. He couldn’t help but to wonder what sort of memories Tooru held for each hallway and room he walked through.

Had Tooru once run through these corridors? Had he laughed and played, hiding behind the various banners and suits of armor that filled the castle? Had he stormed across the wood floors after his father dismissed him from council meetings? Had he hidden in one the dark corners when his mother was pronounced dead, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he trembled from choked back sobs?

It almost felt like Hajime was walking with a ghost— a little shadow of a younger Tooru, before he learned the true cruelty of his father and the devastation of having his life ripped from his hands. And for Hajime, who had only known the broken and newly reformed Tooru, the dragon rider and king, this collision of worlds was strange. Not unwelcome, but unsettling.

Even Tooru himself seemed a bit off-kilter as he roamed the castle. As they settled into the castle and the glow of Tooru’s first victory faded, Hajime watched him reacquaint himself with his old home. The almost trance-like state that fell over him in certain areas. The unconscious hesitation when entering specific rooms. The studied avoidance of the royal apartments and council chamber. These little ticks went unnoticed by most everyone else— almost taken for granted in the case of Keiji and Tooru’s other old friends— but they stuck out like a sore thumb to Hajime. Made it obvious how this castle had shaped and formed and haunted Tooru, even now that he had conquered it.

It reminded Hajime a little too much of how Tooru used to be, when he first joined the fold of their village. And just like back then, Hajime wanted to offer him comfort and rest. He just didn’t know how.

Leaning against the frame of the open doorway, Hajime watched Tooru pace tiny, rapid circles in the castle’s courtyard, as if intent on wearing a path into the stone floor beneath his feet. Though if the results of the past three nights of pacing were any indication, Tooru’s apparent mission was completely in vain. His pacing couldn’t even wear away his own worries, let alone the stone floors of the courtyard.

This had been Tooru’s habit since they captured the castle, wandering out into the courtyard whenever sleep eluded him, which was almost every night now that they’d gotten word of his father’s imminent arrival. He’d been restless since Akira had spotted his father’s army on the horizon, tossing and turning and eventually just getting out of bed while obviously trying not to wake Hajime. He failed at the last bit every time. Hajime was far too aware of Tooru’s presence not to notice when it suddenly disappeared, even in sleep. But Hajime didn’t dare alert Tooru to that fact. Not when Tooru took such pains to not disturb Hajime. And not when Tooru was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice Hajime following and keeping watch over him every night.

Hajime didn’t know what else he could do. This wasn’t like that time in the village, when Tooru’s worries were caused by something distant and stagnant. The threat that plagued Tooru now was very present. It grew stronger every day. And there was only so much Hajime could say to ease that anxiety. After all, this battle had been Tooru’s driving force ever since he’d been chased from the castle. It was no wonder that it loomed so menacingly in Tooru’s mind now.

What could Hajime say that would break that barrier? What could he do to dismiss Tooru’s fears?

Tooru paused in his pacing and lifted his head toward the moon. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks, allowing the starlight to beam down and illuminate Tooru’s face with their silvery glow. He took a deep breath, then sighed it back out, and to Hajime it seemed that the universe sighed along with him. As if releasing all the tension from the air and finally becoming still.

“I know you’re there, Hajime,” Tooru said after a few moment, voice hushed in the darkness. “At least come out where I can see you this time instead of lurking in the shadows.”

“I was trying not to disturb you.” Tooru glanced his way as he walked into the courtyard. Even from a distance, Hajime could see the shadows starting to form under his eyes. “It seemed like you wanted to be alone.”

Tooru smiled sadly and stretched out a hand, which Hajime took as he reached Tooru’s side. His hand was surprisingly warm in the cool of the night. Linking their fingers together, Hajime gave it a gentle squeeze, and was happy to feel Tooru return it. A silent assurance that Hajime was welcomed and wanted here with Tooru. With his _dami._

Hajime looked up at the moon and let out a long breath. “Not long now,” he said. Tooru nodded.

“Akira said he was only a day away. By tomorrow, all of this should be settled.”

There was a slight tremor to his voice that made Hajime look over and see the tense set of his jaw. The faint lines across his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. Clearly the prospect of the battle tomorrow worried him, which Hajime couldn’t fault.

He was worried about the fight as well. About what might happen, what they might lose, what it might mean for him and Tooru. Hajime couldn’t deny that the last thought was the one plaguing his mind the most, even more so now that he held Tooru’s strong hand in his own. He didn’t want to lose this closeness, this affection. And regardless of whether they won or lost tomorrow, that was something that could very easily vanish from his life. After all, he couldn’t really be the royal consort once Tooru was crowned king. Hajime would need to step aside to allow someone else into that spot, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

This wasn’t the time to be discussing that fact, however. They needed to come through the battle first. He needed to make sure Tooru stayed alive.

Hajime lifted Tooru’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “You need to sleep,” he said against Tooru’s skin. Tooru closed his eyes.

“I know.”

And yet he couldn’t. He was too restless. Too worried. Too haunted by the nightmares of what was and what could be. They both knew it. They wouldn’t be standing out in the starlight so late at night if that wasn’t the case. If they weren’t both so worried about what could happen tomorrow as they fought. The possibilities hung over them like a dark cloud just waiting to storm, lightning poised to strike and consume them both in flames. But even so.

“Come back to bed,” Hajime coaxed, kissing Tooru’s hand again, because he wasn’t ready to let go of Tooru just yet. Wasn’t ready to sacrifice whatever time they had left together, just the two of them, before the battle came and everything changed. “Come to bed and rest. Let tomorrow’s worries wait until tomorrow. Come be with me for tonight, _damiyan. Ahn viht chiloh.”_

“ _Ahn viht chiloh_ ,” Tooru repeated in a whisper. Almost as if trying to reassure himself. He swallowed thickly, then looked over at Hajime with surrender in his warm, brown eyes. “ _Ahn damilayoht_ ,” he said, and Hajime smiled, warmth filling him from head to the very tips of his toes at Tooru’s words.

He brushed Tooru’s bed-mussed hair from his eyes with a tender hand, tucking the longer strands behind Tooru’s ear and then tracing the line of Tooru’s jaw with his fingertips. Tooru leaned into the touch. He nuzzled his cheek against Hajime’s hand and pressed lingering lips to the heel of his palm. The touch burned straight through Hajime, as wild and powerful as a fire on an open field. And Hajime never wanted it to stop.

“ _Veh_ ,” he agreed. “ _Ahn sol damilayoht. Vihtal._ ”

Hajime tugged on Tooru’s hand then, gently pulling him back toward the castle. This time, Tooru followed without protest, all the way through the halls to the bedroom they had settled into when they first arrived, where Hajime could tuck Tooru beneath the lush comforter and satin sheets and hold him safe in his arms. Where Hajime could melt into Tooru’s warmth, and feel the reassuring rise and fall of Tooru’s chest as he took slow, steady breaths. Where Hajime could keep Tooru safe, if just for the night. And Hajime might not have liked the castle all that much, or cared for how its memories affected Tooru, but this— Tooru curled around him and finally resting easy in the place he was always meant to occupy— Hajime would protect with everything he had.

He’d make sure Tooru made it through this safe and sound, no matter what. That was all he could do now for his _dami._

 

* * *

 

“Is that him?” Koushi asked, looking out at the horizon with one hand lifted to shield his eyes from the light of the rising sun. Tooru followed his gaze to where a line of movement and several familiar banners interrupted the grey silhouette of the Capital, and then felt his stomach knot up with dread.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “That would be my father.”

There was no doubt of it. Tooru would never forget those banners— red as freshly spilled blood with a golden dragon in flight stamped in the middle of the fabric. His father’s personal insignia as the “conqueror of dragons,” as he’d once told Tooru. So that all of his enemies would know the strength they were fighting against.

At one time, those banners might have frightened Tooru. In a sense, they still did, but not in the way they had when Tooru was younger. Not to the point where all Tooru saw when he looked at those banners was his father’s power, his overwhelming might, his absolute authority. His father held no authority here now. Not over Tooru, and not over those that Tooru led. And most certainly not over the dragons his father had once attempted to exterminate.

Yanwehn snorted out a burst of steam and thrashed his tail. Tooru could only guess it was in agreement with Tooru’s train of thought. There was a small burst of impatience and irritation at the back of Tooru’s mind, all directed at the army marching their way. And Tooru had to agree with his dragon. While he was anxious over the battle, and worried about what it might cost, he was also ready to fight. Ready to take the power from his father’s hands and fix all he had done wrong. Beginning with freedom for the dragons.

Tooru shifted in his saddle as Yanwehn stretched and flapped his wings. He ran a single gloved hand down Yanwehn’s neck, trying to soothe his dragon back into patience, and examined the line of soldiers marching ever closer to his own army. “Our numbers are greater,” he observed, “but we need to remain on guard. There’s no telling what my father might do. I want as few casualties as possible.”

“Of course,” Kousi replied. He patted the neck of his own mount— a small, black dragon about half the size of Yanwehn, with spikes at the very tips of her wings and tail— and glanced over his shoulder at the army waiting several feet behind them. Tooru’s army, all waiting for his orders. “Daichi and Shigeru have their groups in place. And the rest of the dragon riders are ready at your command.”

Nodding, Tooru considered his options. How they started this fight would be crucial. Would decide how fiercely they would need to fight and how much they would need to sacrifice in order to win, all just based on the results and general mood Tooru’s first orders reaped from the enemy. After all, the physical attacks were only one part of the equation; the mental attacks were just as important for crippling enemy soldiers as the actual fighting. They’d come up with several plans and strategies over the past week for all of this, huddled together over the giant map in the castle’s war room, but now, seeing his father’s army and the red banners fluttering in the breeze, Tooru thought he might have a better idea. A better way to show his father just who he was dealing with now. To shatter his confidence.

“Take some of your dragon riders and cause a little chaos, will you? I think it’s time my father learned some of the dragons still survived.”

Koushi grinned and nodded. He and his dragon launched into the air, circling a few times as they waited for the others to join them, and then streaked off to the opposite end of the field. Tooru watched as their forms shrunk, until they looked just like a small flock of birds to match the tiny silhouette’s of his father’s army. One of the dragons dove and swooped close to the other army, then black smoke started streaming into the otherwise clear sky. The dragon had apparently set something within their ranks on fire. Tooru hoped it was one of the trebuchets his father favored using. Those were a pain to deal with, so the more the dragons destroyed the better, in Tooru’s opinion. Another plume of smoke appeared just before the dragon retreated back into the sky, not too far from the first, and Tooru couldn’t help but grin smugly at the frantic desperation he knew his father must have been feeling at that moment, while getting assailed by the creatures he thought he had destroyed.

It was exactly the kind of statement Tooru wanted to make. The kind of statement that said _we’re here, we’re ready, and we have some scores to settle._ It would make his father _furious._ And hopefully terrified as well.

Yanwehn fluttered his wings again, stamping his feet just a bit in his impatience, but this time Tooru didn’t bother attempting to soothe him. The time for assessing and waiting had passed. With his statement made and the first blows struck, there was no reason to hold back any longer. They needed to take advantage of the enemy’s chaos while they still could, before there was any time for his father to plan or retaliate. Strike them while they were down. Make sure they could never quite get back up again. Win not only this battle, but every other battle that might have occurred in one fell swoop.

Tooru pulled out his sword and held it into the sky, where all his army, both in the field and on the castle ramparts, could see, then let out a cry he heard everyone behind him pick up and echo back at him. The sound reverberated all around, shaking Tooru down to the very core. Fanning the small flames of determination inside him into a raging fire strong enough to burn down an entire city. An entire _army._

For just a moment, he let the support and resolve of his soldiers surround him, fill him, bolster him, multiply his strength. Then he and Yanwehn took to the sky, and together they led their army across the field and into battle.

 

* * *

 

Hajime shot arrow after arrow after arrow from the castle ramparts into the fray below. Each shot dropped one of the king’s soldiers to the ground, either dead or injured enough for the fighters on the ground to finish off. But while he took down soldier after soldier, it didn’t seem to be enough. He didn’t seem to be making any sort of dent in their forces anymore. Nor did any of the archers fighting alongside him.

It was too chaotic on the ground now. Hajime had agreed with Tooru’s request that he lead the archers at the beginning of the fight, before the two armies collided in the field near the castle, when a rainstorm of arrows would actually affect the charging mass of the king’s soldiers. They’d done their part and brought down a large portion of the king’s front lines by the time both armies met on the field below, but now the fight was too chaotic for Hajime and the other archers to do anything but pick off soldiers one by one, and that wasn’t exactly the most efficient use of their skills. Especially not with the dragons riders now swooping about and attacking from above, forcing the archers’ range of shooting into a much smaller, much closer area than before.

The chaos was also worrying for Hajime, who had quickly lost sight of Tooru soon after the fighting had started. He’d seen Tooru and Yanwehn race across the field, had watched them dive close to the ground, had seen Tooru slide from Yanwehn’s back into the battle below, and then had lost Tooru in the fighting. There were too many people and far too much movement. Any trace he managed to glimpse of Tooru between the shifting bodies was quickly hidden by the crowd once more, and it worried him. Hajime didn’t like not being able to see Tooru and know he was alright.

He shot another round of arrows down into the crowd, but only hit a few of the king’s soldiers that were closest to the castle. Not enough. His range was too limited, his fighting hemmed in by the flock of dragons weaving through the air. He could be helping far more if he wasn’t limited to the ramparts, which meant it was time for him to leave.

Screw what he’d said to Tooru. He couldn’t just sit here and let all the others do the work. Not when he knew he could help.

“Akira,” he called across the ramparts to the young soldier acting as his second-in-command, “you’re in charge now.” It was the best choice Hajime could make at that moment. Though he’d never fought alongside Akira before this battle, Tooru had assured him of the young soldier’s prowess with the bow and his ability to find the weak spots in their enemy’s defense. He’d make sure the other archers did what they were supposed to do, which left Hajime free to jump into the fray. “Dragon riders, with me,” he yelled to the small group he’d kept with him while the others had charged forward, knowing their army would need the delayed aerial support the rest of them would now be able to provide.

Together, they ran from the ramparts to the castle courtyard, where all their dragons sat waiting. Hajime sprinted straight over to Thehtayan and pulled himself into his saddle as quickly as he could, though not quick enough to appease the impatience thrumming through his veins. He was anxious to get out on the field, to find Tooru and Yanwehn, to put an end to this whole fight, and if the hum in the back of his mind was anything to go by, Thehtayan was in complete agreement. She too was impatient to fly into battle, and to protect the prince and little hatchling she’d grown so fond of.

“ _Nahgetamahn_ ,” he said to her. She snorted in response, and then crouched down and spread her wings.

Hajime closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not watching as the ground fell away from his and Thehtayan’s feet. He focused instead on the bond— the connection between himself and his dragon that sharpened his senses and gave him a clearer view of what was happening around them. He felt as Thehtayan felt. He saw as she saw. And Thehtayan had much stronger vision that Hajime did. She’d be able to find Tooru and Yanwehn in no time.

Hajime allowed Thehtayan to decide their path. She knew better than he how to find Yanwehn in the chaos below. Instead, Hajime focused on his archery, firing at every enemy soldier he could as Thehtayan circled through the air. It was much more difficult to accomplish at the speed Thehtayan flew, but luckily he’d had plenty of practice while out hunting, cloaked in the darkness and moonlight. Compared to having to aim in the darkness, this at least was much easier, and made up for any difference Thehtayan’s increased speed added.

But where was Tooru? That was Hajime’s goal right now. He needed to see Tooru and know that he was alright. To make sure Tooru was protected. That Tooru, good or bad, would come out of this alive, just as Hajime had promised himself.

Thehtayan wove through the other dragons in tight, streamlined loops. Hajime kept himself as flat as he could against her back while still firing at the enemies below. At least until he inevitably ran out of arrows, and then he just pressed his chest against her spine.

It was just as well, he supposed, since not long after he finally spotted Tooru fighting his way through the crowd, slashing enemies down like fury personified, his sword and circlet flashing in the sunlight as Yanwehn guarded his side. And, not too far away, Hajime also saw a man with a striking resemblance to Tooru and a crown atop his head— the king, Tooru’s father. He was hacking his way across the field toward Tooru, determination evident in every swing of his sword, and it seemed that Tooru didn’t even know what was headed his way. He was too preoccupied with the soldiers in front of him to see his father sneaking up behind him.

Hajime felt a flash of panic. “ _Chilahn_ ,” he said to Thehtayan, not even needing to point for her to see what he was looking at. It took only a moment, and then with an enraged growl she dropped into a steep dive in order to place herself between Tooru and his father. Her usual grace in landing was discarded entirely in her hurry. Not that Hajime minded.

He slid from her back the moment her claws touched the ground, hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword he rarely used. It was uncomfortable and heavy in his hand, not like the easy familiarity of his bow and arrows. He’d had very little practice with swordplay, and it obviously showed in the clumsy way he handled the sword as he pulled it from its scabbard. But Hajime would be damned if he let Tooru’s father sneak up behind Tooru’s back just because he couldn’t fight with his bow anymore. He’d told himself he would protect Tooru, no matter what, and Hajime wasn’t about to turn his back on that promise.

Snarling, Thehtayan curled against Hajime’s back to fend off any would-be attackers as Hajime faced his actual target— the man that shared Tooru’s features but also didn’t look like Tooru at all.

How Tooru had been born from such a man was hard for Hajime to grasp. Though they shared the same chestnut colored hair and slightly upturned nose and other such physical traits that marked them as father and son, they nevertheless looked nothing alike. Tooru’s mouth would never have pulled into such an arrogant sneer as his father’s did. His eyes would never have been so cold or so hard. His posture so stiff and unyielding.

Not for the first time, Hajime wished he could have met Tooru’s mother. To have known the woman that had raised Tooru into a completely different and, in Hajime’s opinion, better man than his father.

The king swung his sword at Hajime, who blocked and held his ground. Not the best move on his part. Hajime grunted under the weight of the king’s sword, arms shaking. It was so much heavier, filled with so much more strength, than he was used to. But then, aside from Tooru, the people Hajime had practiced with weren’t exactly swordsmen. They hadn’t grown up with a sword in hand like Tooru or his father. And neither had Hajime, which left him at quite a disadvantage.

He couldn’t do it. He knew he couldn’t win in a battle of strength against Tooru’s father. He was too inexperienced. Too used to the weight of a bow in his hands rather than that of a sword.

He stepped to the side and let the king’s sword slide with a screech down his all the way to the ground. However, before Hajime could go on the offense, Tooru’s father attacked again, and kept attacking. It was all Hajime could do to keep blocking and parrying and staying out of reach of the blade. He was faster than Tooru’s father. Lighter on his feet, and more able to dodge the fierce swings he sent Hajime’s way. But it didn’t help him to land any hits on the king, or to truly retaliate in any way. He was stuck in an endless cycle of defense that not even Thehtayan, occupied as she was with fending off the rest of the king’s soldiers, could break. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable, trying to buy Tooru as much time as he could before he had to face his father.

That time limit was drawing closer with every passing second, moving in leaps and bounds as Hajime struggled against every swing and thrust of the king’s sword. He was rapidly losing energy and motivation, all of it being sapped by the constant movement of his body as he tried to keep up with the king’s fluid motions. He wasn’t used to the movement, and the weight the king threw into every attack only made it worse. Made it that much harder for Hajime to retain his strength.

The king swung down with his sword, and Hajime attempted to parry. But it was too much. Hajime was too tired and unprepared. The force behind the blow knocked his sword straight out of his hands onto the ground below. Hajime jumped back, out of reach, and felt his stomach clench up in horror. He wouldn’t be able to get to his sword in time. The king would attack him long before he could reach it. And all he had left to fight with was the bow strapped to Thehtayan’s saddle and the dagger tucked inside his own boot. Neither of which would do him much good against a swordsman of the king’s caliber.

Defiantly, he pulled out his dagger and stared the king down with all the anger and determination that had plagued him since Tooru first walked into his life. He knew this would probably be the end of the line for him, but he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Not to the man that had caused this country so much harm. And most especially not to the man that had caused his _dami_ so much pain and turmoil.

He wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t._

 

* * *

 

Tooru kicked his opponent to the side, pulling his sword from their chest as he did so. Another soldier took their place only moments afterward and attacked Tooru with fervor, just as all the soldiers Tooru had faced and killed since joining the fight had done. Tooru kept fighting, kept pushing forward, kept cutting his way through the crowd, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but to wonder when it would end. When they’d be able to bring this battle to a close.

They’d been fighting for hours, and so far Tooru had yet to see his father anywhere. He knew his father was still alive, still fighting. His soldiers wouldn’t have continued their resistance if that weren’t the case, and anyways his father was much too skilled with a sword and far too bloodthirsty to be brought down so easily.

No, his father was still out there in the field. Still fighting. And Tooru needed to find him and end this battle as soon as he could. For all their sakes.

He struck down another soldier and stepped over the fallen body, walking further into the fray. Koushi and Daichi fought back to back not to far away from Tooru, while Issei and Takahiro terrorized his father’s army with their dragons from above, swooping down and blowing small bursts of flames on enemy battalions and weaponry. The others, all those he’d become friends with over the months of hiding and building his army, were out there somewhere, scattered throughout the fight, cutting their enemy into smaller sections that could easily be overwhelmed, just as they had planned. Already, Tooru could see it working, and could see the decline in numbers wearing his father’s colors, but where was his father?

Yanwehn growled and curled closer to Tooru. He glanced over at the dragon and saw Yanwehn sweep a few of his father’s soldiers off to the side, as if flicking away a speck of dust. Tooru pushed a wave of gratitude through their bond, but all he received in return from his dragon was a faint hum of anxiety, and now of fear.

But fear of what? Fear of whom? They were winning, and Tooru only had a few scratches to show from their fight, so there was no need to feel so petrified by what was happening.

 _‘Damiyan,’_ Yanwehn pushed into his mind, catching Tooru’s attention and nerves. _‘Ehrats.’_

Tooru spun on his heel and looked toward the castle, feeling almost frantic. Hajime was supposed to leading the archers up on the ramparts, where he should be safe. If he was in trouble, then the castle was breached, wasn’t it? Unless Hajime had thrown himself into the battle, which, honestly, Tooru wouldn’t be surprised by.

As he’d thought, the castle looked untouched by the enemies, standing strong and safe like a lighthouse in a storm. So then Hajime had to be somewhere in the field then. And somewhere Yanwehn could see him. Somewhere Yanwehn could make out what sort of danger he was currently in. And if Hajime was nearby, then Thehtayan was sure to be nearby as well.

Anxious, Tooru scanned the battlefield, searching for the grey dragon. Though Thehtayan was smaller than most of the dragons fighting, built more for agility and speed than strength, she’d still stand out from the crowd of people and help point Tooru in the direction of Hajime. He needed to get to Hajime. Make sure that Hajime was safe and by his side.

Tooru finally spotted Thehtayan not too far away from where he was standing, fending off a group of soldiers Tooru recognized from their banners as his father’s private guard. That recognition sent a stab of ice straight through his heart.

If his father’s private guard was there, then his father had to be there as well. Which meant Hajime was most likely fighting Tooru’s father. And was most likely being overwhelmed by his father.

Tooru didn’t waste another moment. He pushed his way through the fight, dodging all enemy soldiers in favor of rushing to Hajime’s side. He didn’t have any time to waste with other opponents. They would only delay him, and any moment spent fighting someone else was another moment his father might overtake Hajime and run him through with his sword, which couldn’t be allowed to happen. Tooru would move all the heavens and the earth to keep that from happening. He needed Hajime by his side when this was all over, alive and whole and happy. Tooru would accept no less.

Sensing Tooru’s distress and frustration, Yanwehn rushed ahead and cleared a path through the crowd for Tooru to run through, until Tooru could see straight through the battle to where Hajime stood, facing down his father’s sword with nothing but a dagger in his hand. Panic pushed Tooru across the field with more speed than Tooru ever believed he could managed. His boots pounded against the ground just as his heart pounded against his ribcage, painful and bruising and filled with dread while he watched his father raise his sword.

One step more. Just one step more. He couldn’t be too late, he just couldn’t.

He pushed himself even faster and raised his sword, just in time to block his father’s blow from slicing straight across Hajime’s chest.

His father jumped back and lowered his sword. “Tooru,” he acknowledged, voice almost lost in the sound of battle all around them. His eyes narrowed and scanned over Tooru, as if in disbelief that Tooru was actually there. “My son. I was beginning to believe those silly rumors of your return had been false.”

“You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” Tooru retorted as he pushed Hajime behind him, where both Thehtayan and Yanwehn circled around him like a shield while still protecting Tooru’s back. Hajime didn’t need to be a part of this fight after all. This was between Tooru and his father. “That way you could have still pretended like you didn’t try to have me killed.”

“A pity I didn’t succeed. But no matter. It will all soon be fixed now.”

“Yes,” Tooru agreed. He held his sword before him, both hands wrapped tightly around the hilt, and glared as his father did the same. He took a deep breath. “Let us end this.”

There was a moment more of calm, a second of stillness as the weight and magnitude of what was about to occur settled into the space between them, and then they both lunged forward. Tooru fell quickly into the rhythm of defense, parrying each of his father’s attacks with calculated calm. He’d been here before, sparred several times with his father while growing up, and he could still remember the few weak points he’d been able to pull out of his father during that time. One of them being his father’s stamina.

Each attack his father sent his way was heavy and filled with anger, and it took a great deal of energy for Tooru to block each one. But not as much energy as his father clearly invested into each swing. He wasn’t pacing himself, too angry and eager to get this fight over with to realize how Tooru was taking advantage of his impatience. Or maybe his father didn’t believe that Tooru remembered their sparring sessions and all he had taught to Tooru in the art of fighting, which was just fine with Tooru. Let his father wear himself out attempting to strike him. Tooru would bide his time.

However, there was only so much Tooru could defend against. His father had far more experience in fighting than Tooru, and his movements were far more fluid than Tooru’s could ever be. He slipped through Tooru’s defense just enough to leave tiny scratches across Tooru time and time again, all across his arms and his legs and his cheeks where his leather armor could not protect him; not deep enough to truly worry Tooru, but still painful and inconvenient. Blood trickled down from one cut across his temple and into his left eye, while his grip on his sword became slippery and weak due to sweat and the small trail of blood dripping down his arms and hands.

He jumped to the side as his father took another swing and attempted to blink away the blood in his eye. But the blood kept flowing, and his vision remained obscured, which really wasn’t what Tooru needed right now. He could barely keep up with his father as it was, let alone with only half his vision. The blood kept Tooru from seeing most of what was happening to his left, and he couldn’t see the attack his father sent his way until it was too late to completely avoid it. He jumped out of range just in time to avoid losing his left leg, but the sword still sliced through the skin and muscle.

He cried out in pain. The cut on his leg, just above his knee, was deep— too deep for Tooru to remain standing. He fell to his knee, injured leg collapsed underneath him, half-blind from blood and nearly defenseless against his father’s attacks.

 _E dea_ , was this the way it would end? With Tooru on the ground, crushed by his father like some sort of bug?

He thought he’d been prepared, that he was ready for this fight, but perhaps not. Perhaps he’d been too hasty when he claimed Aoba under his protection, just as Hajime had warned. Or perhaps he was just weak and unsuited for the throne, like his father had always told him.

His father raised raised his sword for the killing blow, and Tooru did the only thing he could think of. A desperate last attempt to keep himself alive. He angled his sword up and then pushed himself, injured leg and all, toward his father, moving at such an angle that his own sword slipped beneath his father’s chest plate between his ribs.

His father stopped. He tried to draw in a breath, but from where Tooru was standing so close to his father, it just sounded like a hollow gasp. Like he was choking on air. His sword fell from his hands and onto the ground with a thud that sounded far more distant to Tooru than it actually was. But then, Tooru was too distracted by his father’s gasps and the fear in his dark brown eyes. The realization that he’d lost. That he was dying. That everything he’d done to retain his power had been pointless, and had, in fact, brought him to this very moment, being killed by his own son and heir.

Silently, Tooru let go of his sword and watched his father fall to the ground. Blood began spilling from his chest and pooling in the dirt around him, and his gasps became quieter and quieter with every second that passed. Tooru found that even in this moment, watching his father’s life fade away after stabbing him with his own two hands, he still felt nothing for man that raised him. Not pity, not anger, not loss. Just a quiet and weary hum of satisfaction. Of closure. Like the ending of a long and stressful book.

Tooru’s legs shook, pain shooting from the wound above his knee to mix with the bone-deep exhaustion that suddenly filled his body. He sank down, but found himself caught by strong arms before he actually reached the ground. They lifted him up and supported him and drew his weary form against the warm strength of another body.

“Tooru,” Hajime murmured against his ear. He pressed his face into the crook of Tooru’s neck and took a deep, shaky breath. His voice cracked as he whispered, “ _Dami. Ahni dami. E dea veezeh. Ahni dami_ ,” over and over against Tooru’s skin.

Tooru closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“The crown,” he whispered. “I need… I need my father’s crown.”

Nodding, Hajime gently lowered him to the ground and walked over to his father’s now-lifeless body. At some point during the fight, Thehtayan and Yanwehn had repositioned themselves to form a circle around Tooru, Hajime, and Tooru’s father, cutting them off from the continued chaos of the battle around them, so Tooru was the only witness as Hajime took the plain, gold crown not so gently from his father’s head. He wiped the dirt and blood from it with his own shirt, and then brought it back over to Tooru, kneeling as he presented it with both hands.

Tooru stared at it for a moment.

For such a simple piece of metal, it carried so much power. Enough to corrupt his father and cause this whole battle in the first place. He thought of his mother and his own past. Of the dragons and dragon riders forced into hiding. Of all the agony his people had endured just because of the authority this crown had granted his father and his right to do whatever he pleased. It was no wonder his father had coveted it so. Even to the point of trying to murder his own heir in order to keep it.

Tooru looked at it, however, and saw something other than power. He saw the weight of a kingdom, and all the expectations and responsibilities his new position would demand. Now that he held that crown, he wondered if that weight might be too much. If there wasn’t a better way to shoulder the burden of governance.

Tucking those thoughts aside for the moment, Tooru took the crown and placed it atop his own head. The second the metal settled against his hair, Thehtayan and Yanwehn took flight over head and let out twin roars of triumph. All around, the other dragons stopped in their tracks to take up the cry, filling the air with so much noise that the entire battle came to a halt. The soldiers looked at the two dragons circling overhead, and then at the ground below, where Tooru now sat with a crown upon his head.

Hajime remained kneeling on one knee, paying obeisance in the same way he had when he’d first returned to Aoba with all of the dragon riders. His posture was that of a soldier before his king, or a servant before his master— respectful and formal. But Tooru could read all the pride and care and relief Hajime felt in the softness of his eyes, and that was what kept Tooru grounded. Kept him from choking under the sudden pressure of responsibility.

“The King is dead,” Hajime announced to the crowd at large, voice carrying through the silence so that everyone might hear. “Long live King Tooru.”

One by one, the soldiers dropped their weapons and knelt on the ground around him. They took up Hajime’s cry and let it echo across the field, heralding the dawn of a new age.

“Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> "Viht dewynnyoht. Viht bretalliyoht."  
> Be careful. Be safe.
> 
> Dami/Damiyan  
> Beloved/Mate
> 
> "Ahn viht chiloh"  
> I am here
> 
> "Ahn damilayoht."/ “Veh. Ahn sol damilayoht. Vihtal.”  
> I love you./ Yes. I love you as well. Always.
> 
> "Nahgetamahn"  
> Let us fly.
> 
> "Chilahn"  
> There
> 
> "Ehrats"  
> Danger
> 
> "Dami. Ahni dami. E dea veezeh. Ahni dami"  
> Beloved. My beloved. Thank god. My beloved.
> 
>  
> 
> (only one more chapter to go!! also, this is officially the longest chapter I've written for IFF, surpassing chapter 3's wordcount of 10,000 words by only 500 more)
> 
> (on a side note: it's been forever since I've written a battle involving swords, so those of you with actual experience with swords, please forgive my mistakes haha)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did I make the right decision, Hajime?” he asked again. “I know this will better for everyone in the end, but I can’t help wondering if the cost was too high. If there maybe wasn’t a better way.”
> 
> “What other way could there have been?”
> 
> “I don’t know,” he answered, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know.”

Tooru buried his father’s ashes in the Hall of Kings, where every king that had come before now held their resting place.

He stared impassively as his father’s urn was lowered into the ground and the final consecrations were read. Behind him, the small group of viewers he had allowed into the Hall of Kings, all dressed in mourning colors of deep purple and black, remained silent and bowed their heads in respect, paying tribute to a man who, though considered a tyrant, had also been a king. A man who, for a short period of time, had been a hero and defender of the people. A man who had been Tooru’s father.

While Tooru held no positive feelings for his father, he couldn’t deny the man his place in their kingdom’s history. He’d debated the matter for days, torn between tradition and his own opinions on the matter, tossing and turning late into the night as he tried to decide what to do. How to reconcile the past with the present in this matter.

“I want a new beginning,” he had confessed to Hajime on one of those nights, after Hajime had pulled Tooru into his arms and tried to soothe Tooru’s restless mind. “A time of peace. A chance to heal and begin anew.”

“Then why not begin with yourself?” Hajime asked. He brushed a hand through Tooru’s hair, then down Tooru’s neck and across his back, as soft and tender in his touch as someone holding a fragile treasure. “Do what will bring you peace of mind, _dami_. We will follow you, no matter what you choose.”

True to his word, Hajime stood beside him at the edge of his father’s grave, unflagging in his support even as he watched the man that had driven his village into hiding be honored. His shoulder brushed against Tooru’s arm, warm and strong and steady, and when Tooru took hold of his hand, Hajime didn’t hesitate to thread their fingers together and give a strong, reassuring squeeze. _I’m here_ , the gesture seemed to say. _I’m here. I support you. I won’t leave your side._

It was a reassurance Tooru sorely needed.

Eyes smarting, he took a deep breath and looked away from his father’s grave, over the effigies of previous monarchs and the large stained-glass windows that lined the Hall up to the vaulted ceiling where scattered gemstones glittered like stars against the black marble. An eternal night for the kings and queens of old to rest beneath. A sanctuary for their weary souls.

One day… one day this would be Tooru’s resting place as well. One day, he would be buried alongside his father and his grandfather and all the great monarchs that had come before him, laid to rest beneath the manufactured night sky. Contained forever within these four stone walls. Locked away from all the rest of the world like a bird in a cage to be honored and mourned and revered, even as the world moved on without him.

It was a thought that unsettled him. That his time here was limited. That this kingdom would continue long after his death, carried along by his heir, and then his heir’s heir, and all these nameless successors that Tooru would have no knowledge of or hand in raising. Who would take up the reins of governance when his time was over? Would they uphold the standards Tooru set? Would they continue his legacy? Or would they drive it into the ground? Return the kingdom back to war and ruin?

Tooru didn’t know. And he had no control over it. All he could do was focus on himself and his own actions in the years ahead. To fix all that had been broken and to bury the wrongs of the past along with his father. To begin anew, just as he’d said to Hajime. And then to hope for a future that wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of his father. Or the mistakes of himself.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think I made the right decision?” Tooru asked one night after all the lamps had been extinguished and the court had retired for the night. Surprised, Hajime rolled over to face Tooru, who was laying on his back and dangling his amber dragon’s egg pendant over his own face. It glimmered in the small bit of moonlight that beamed through the open windows. Tooru’s expression was unreadable.

“About what? Taking back the throne?” Hajime asked softly. When Tooru didn’t answer, Hajime placed a hand on his chest, just below where Tooru’s heart would be, and rubbed small circles into the warm, bare skin with his thumb. “You brought back the dragons. Saved this kingdom from your father. Took back your birthright. Of course you made the right decision.”

Tooru bit his lip. “I suppose,” he whispered after a few moments— a small, hesitant whisper that tugged painfully at Hajime’s heart, and made him wonder if perhaps Tooru was talking about something else entirely.

Sighing, Tooru lifted his head and slipped the chain of the necklace back around his neck. He twisted the pendant with his fingers as he fell back against the pillow. Even in the darkness, his eyes were glassy. Distant. Unfocused in the same way they’d been ever since his father’s funeral. And in the shadows of the night, that expression looked just as haunted to Hajime as the one he’d once found Tooru wearing all those months ago, when he’d told Hajime of his father’s atrocities as they sat together under the stars.

Just as he had then, Hajime wished he could climb into Tooru’s head and see what was bothering him so much now. What ghosts were plaguing his mind. Tooru had been distant ever since the funeral, slowly drawing away from the rest of the world and pulling into himself, growing quieter as the castle staff bustled about him, leaving silence where there used to be mindless chatter, much like he was doing now. It worried Hajime. He knew better than to pry, of course, but he wanted, now more than ever, to know what his _dami_ was thinking. What he was fretting about. Wanted to be able to soothe Tooru’s worries while he still had the right to. He didn’t like how Tooru had tried to end their short conversation.

Hajime shifted his arm to curl around Tooru’s torso and pull him back against Hajime’s chest, where Hajime could bury his nose in the soft tendrils of Tooru’s hair and press slow, tender kisses against Tooru’s neck. Perhaps the physical touch would be able to coax more words from Tooru. Or to at least remind him that Hajime was there to support him.

“ _Ahn viht chiloh, dami,_ ” Hajime murmured against Tooru’s skin. “ _Sahilyoht au ahn_.”

Tooru let out a long breath, then he rolled over to face Hajime. He kept his head ducked so Hajime couldn’t see his face, but Hajime imagined it was some mixture of upset and conflicted by the way Tooru’s hands fidgeted and curled against Hajime’s chest. He hadn’t been this fidgety while talking to Hajime since before they’d traveled to Aoba. Whatever he was thinking, it was clearly causing even greater distress than Hajime first thought.

Tooru opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a deep breath.

“People died in that battle,” he finally murmured, voice hoarse, almost cracking in anguish. He didn’t raise his head, but ducked it even further, until all Hajime could see was his unkempt hair and the pale skin of his cheek. As if Tooru couldn’t bear to face Hajime. As if he felt ashamed. Accountable for what had occurred.

Hajime swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and brushed a thumb over Tooru’s cheekbone as he answered, “I know.”

“A lot of people.”

“I know.”

“And more will probably die under my rule, no matter what I do.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Hajime asked. “Losing people?”

Tooru shook his head. “I’m afraid of becoming unaffected by it,” he said. One of his hands uncurled and pressed flat against Hajime’s chest, right over his heart. “I’m afraid of one day not caring how many lives are lost.”

Like his father, Hajime realized. The man who had been so hardened to the suffering of his people, so confident in his own importance over them, and so hungry to grasp all the power that he could that he’d nearly wiped out an entire race of ancient creatures and then allowed his own kingdom to fall into ruin. The man who had dominated every aspect of Tooru’s life, and even now, even after his death, continued to haunt and oppress Tooru from his grave in the Hall of Kings.

“You won’t be like him,” Hajime said firmly, slipping his fingers beneath Tooru’s tucked chin in order to tilt his head up. “You care too much for this nation and these people to ever be like him.” Tooru finally lifted his head to meet Hajime’s gaze. His own eyes were glistening, and his bottom lip trembled just slightly, as if holding back a sob. It made Hajime ache down to his very fingertips. He pressed a short kiss to Tooru’s forehead, then continued, “And in any case, you have Daichi, Koushi, and me to keep you in check. Just as always.”

The small, watery laugh that came from Tooru after that statement eased some of the tension in Hajime’s chest. Which then relaxed even more as Tooru teased, “Maybe I’ll just blame all my mistakes on you three then. Preserve my reputation.”

Hajime snorted. “After all you’ve done for this country, I don’t think you need to worry too much about your reputation.”

He had no doubt that Tooru would go down in this nation’s history as a hero. Perhaps even as one of the greatest kings to ever hold the throne. How could he not be with all he’d already accomplished? And, despite what Tooru seemed to think about himself, Hajime didn’t believe Tooru would do anything that wasn’t in the best interest of the nation. He’d lived among the common folk for over three years, had experienced all their suffering and hardships, and so knew exactly what his people needed. What they considered important.

That knowledge would make him a better leader. Would make him a great king.

Quietly, Tooru tucked his head again to rest his forehead against Hajime’s collarbone, where Hajime could feel his warm breath fanning over his skin. Tooru started fiddling with his necklace, absentmindedly twisting it between his long fingers.

“Did I make the right decision, Hajime?” he asked again. “I know this will better for everyone in the end, but I can’t help wondering if the cost was too high. If there maybe wasn’t a better way.”

“What other way could there have been?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know.”

Hajime sighed through his nose and ran a hand down Tooru’s back. He understood where Tooru was coming from. Even he’d had his doubts about this campaign. Had questioned if they’d made the right decisions. If they had moved too quickly. If he was making the right choice in loving Tooru, and in letting him go.

“You can’t let yourself get stuck in the past,” he said to Tooru, repeating the mantra he’d learned from the village elders long ago. “What’s happened has happened, and there’s no point in worrying about things you can’t change. You can only focus on the present, and work to make the future exactly as you want it.”

“Perhaps.”

Tooru continued to twist his dragon’s egg pendant between his fingers, seeming even more restless and anxious than before, despite Hajime’s attempts to calm him. In fact, Hajime’s words appeared to have done the exact opposite of what he’d intended. Something about them had struck Tooru, who was caught up in his own thoughts again, as if desperately searching for an answer to a question Hajime couldn’t see or hear. But if Tooru wasn’t willing to share that with him, then there was nothing else Hajime could do. He could only hope for Tooru to find his answer soon. And, with it, to find his peace.

 

* * *

 

_Did I make the right decision?_

The question plagued his mind as the days passed and his coronation ceremony drew nearer. Tooru watched the palace servants hurry down the hallways, preparing the castle for his coronation with all sorts of banners and decorations that seemed more ostentatious than anything else to him. He didn’t need the new banners or the polished, gold chandeliers. Didn’t need the giant bouquets of flowers set in every corner, or the new draperies embroidered with gold thread, or the gold and porcelain dishes being crafted just for this occasion. Didn’t need the ornate ensemble his new Council of Lords insisted he wear for the ceremony, complete with a jewel-encrusted crown and a long, lush, velvet robe trimmed with white fur.

The outfit even included a new pair of black, leather boots, which Tooru absolutely refused to wear in place of the pair he already owned. His dragonhide boots were just as good as any other pair. So what if they were a little scratched up and dirty? They had gone through this entire journey with him, from his start as a dragon rider to that final battle against his father, and he refused to let them be replaced by anything. Especially not by a pair he’d wear only once in his life. Those boots, like most other aspects of this coronation ceremony, were unnecessary in his opinion. Wasteful.

“I don’t understand why all this is so important,” he said as Keiji clipped the robe into place for his final fitting. In the mirror he saw Koushi look up from his place at Tooru’s feet, where he’d been smoothing out the robe’s train against the castle floor. “I could be coronated in my normal clothes and it would still be just as official. Why make all this fuss?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Tooru. The tradition,” Koushi answered, smiling when Tooru glanced down at him. “Besides, the people want to celebrate their new King with all the pomp and circumstance such an event requires. Would you deny them that?”

“Once upon a time, you _liked_ getting dressed up for these formal events. You couldn’t wait to wear the crown jewels,” Keiji said from his other side. Tooru sighed.

“That was a long time ago.” Back before he had seen and experienced what a normal life was like. Back when he’d thought the jewels around his throat were more valuable than the strength of his own two hands.

Sighing again, Tooru glanced back at the mirror and saw the person his younger self had only dreamed of becoming— regal, confident, clothed in riches and power. This Tooru, this image of all that he could be, was what had once gotten him through the long, lonely nights of the castle after his mother had died. He had everything his younger self had wanted and more. So much that it was almost suffocating. And at one point that might have thrilled him, but not anymore.

Now that he had everything he’d once desired, he was no longer sure he wanted it. His younger self had dreamed about crowns and jewels and courts. Now he dreamed of dark forests and the cold, crisp air of the mountains and racing through the night sky, just him and Hajime and their dragons. Flying together as if nothing else in the world mattered.

_Did I make the right decision?_

He wondered if this was how his mother had felt after she married his father and became queen. If she too had looked into the mirror while wearing all her jewels and finery and had barely recognized herself. She had been a member of Hajime’s village at one point, after all. The Capital was an entirely different world. Tooru knew that from personal experience. The court and all its traditions would have been even more overwhelming for his mother than it was for Tooru now. He at least had experience with these court ceremonies, as well as the unflagging support of his close friends. He had love. He had Hajime.

His mother had been all alone when she married his father— all of her friends and family and way of life left behind in the village she had been trying to protect through her unhappy marriage. Tooru wondered if she ever regretted that decision. If she hadn’t wished to be back in the mountains instead of charading as this nation’s queen. Tooru wouldn’t have blamed her. In part, he too wished to leave this all behind and return to the village. Things were simpler there. More peaceful. More like home.

“Just look towards the east,” his mother had told him all those years ago. For the longest time, Tooru had assumed she’d meant raising an army in the east to take back his birthright, just as he’d done. But perhaps that wasn’t quite what she’d meant. Perhaps she’d only wanted to guide him somewhere to live the rest of his days in peace, away from the toxicity and pressure of the court.

_Did I make the right decision?_

“I don’t know if I want to be king,” he admitted, more to himself than either of the two beside him. Both of their gazes snapped his way at that statement however— Keiji’s with alarm, while Koushi seemed only curious and thoughtful. “I’m not suited for it. I’m not sure any one man could be.”

“Would you rather have someone else in charge of this country?” Keiji questioned, incredulous. And Tooru understood. He’d waited for this moment his whole life, had planned for it and fought for it and promised to fix all that he could. But things were different. He had changed. This nation had changed. And Tooru was starting to see that the old ways of doing things were no longer going to work.

“I’d rather not have just one person in charge of the entire country. Myself included.” He closed his eyes and brushed his fingers over the pendant dangling from his neck. The pendant that had brought him so far and had changed him so much. “That much power in one pair of hands is dangerous. Look at what my father did with it. I don’t want the future to repeat those mistakes.”

“You know,” Koushi says beside him, “the Elders had a similar train of thought back when the village was first formed. If you’re serious about this, I know they would be willing to talk with you.”

Tooru opened his eyes and looked at Koushi through the mirror’s reflection. Even in the castle, Koushi still wore the loose sweaters and dragonhide boots he always wore in the village. He looked calm, confident in himself, comfortable in his own skin. Tooru looked back at himself and felt a longing so deep to tear off his coronation robes and don the simple clothing of the village he’d come to cherish that he nearly couldn’t breathe.

He knew now that was the life he wanted. Life in the village, in the seclusion of the mountains, as a dragon rider, as Hajime’s _dami_. Wanted it so badly he’d be willing to sacrifice this crown he’d always dreamed of, as long as it went into the right hands.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded at Koushi and said, “Yes. I think I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

The throne hall was crowded, crammed with as many people as the cavernous room could hold and then some. On one side stood the nobles and aristocrats— the faces that would fill Tooru’s future. On the other side stood the villagers and dragon riders— all the faces that made up Tooru’s past. Hajime stood at the very front of the room, next to Koushi and Daichi and all those Tooru insisted he couldn’t have succeeded without, positioned right where Hajime could see the currently empty throne best. Just seeing it, in all its sparkling, ornate grandeur, made Hajime’s throat dry.

He didn’t really understand all the intricacies and rituals involved in court life, but he knew this coronation was important. Quite possibly the most important event this nation had celebrated in ages. The ushering in of a brand new era after years of grief.

All of the hope and excitement of the people was evident in the magnificent decorations that filled the hall. The flowers that filled every corner, and the satin banners billowing down from the ceiling like white clouds, and the new, clean, and in the nobles’ cases embroidered outfits each person around him wore. Hajime himself had opted to wear his usual banquet ensemble, knowing the shirt and pants were the best pieces of clothing he actually owned, and also knowing they weren’t near nice enough for an occasion such as this. Seeing all the aristocrats in their fancy brocades and exquisite doublets made Hajime feel plain and under-dressed— a feeling he couldn’t seem to will away no matter how hard he tried.

But well, it was expected, he supposed. This was Tooru’s world, not Hajime’s. Never Hajime’s.

He clasped his hands in front of him and watched the large, double doors at the back of the hall rather than observing the people around him, waiting for the moment when the doors would swing open and Tooru would emerge. He hadn’t seen his _dami_ all too much during the past week. Tooru always seemed to busy with something, pulled away to organize this or that or to meet with all the dignitaries from neighboring countries who had come to see him crowned. They all wanted a moment of his time, now that he was king. All wanted to monopolize his attention. Hajime was only able to steal seconds with Tooru during the night, when they were both too exhausted to do more than curl up together and murmur a few words.

Hajime hated it. He understood why Tooru kept getting pulled away, and knew this was only the beginning of Tooru’s duty as king, but he still hated it. He hated that Tooru’s duties cut into what little time Hajime had left with him. Hated that he’d only have memories of Tooru’s warmth and the weight of his arm across Hajime’s waist and the soft little snores Tooru made when deep in sleep to remember this time by. Hated most of all that he was getting a taste of life without Tooru by his side and it was slowly killing him.

He couldn’t stay here though. He knew that. This wasn’t his place, and it never could be.

As the band in the balcony came to life, horns trumpeting a triumphant melody, Hajime turned his focus back to the present and to the creaking of the double wooden doors as they opened. The crowd around him remained silent, but Hajime could feel the sudden charge in the atmosphere. The tangible excitement and joy that was evident in every wide grin that filled the crowd. They watched the doors expectantly as first the Lord Chancellor and the Lord Chamberlain entered the hall side by side, followed after by Tooru in his coronation robes.

Hajime almost didn’t recognize him. He looked so different from how Hajime always saw him, clothed like all of the aristocrats in exquisitely embellished clothing and a dark blue, velvet robe trimmed with fur. Jewels hung from his neck and glittered on the fingers of the hands Tooru held steepled before his chest. With all the rings on his fingers, his hands looked almost delicate, completely unlike the strong, steady hands covered in dirt and callouses that Hajime was so used to. His usually unruly hair was now neatly combed and styled beneath the thin, golden circlet that would soon be replaced with the crown the Lord Chancellor carried on a blue, satin cushion.

Tooru passed Hajime and climbed up the steps of the throne’s dais with calm, measured steps and an easy elegance that could only have come from years of practice in the royal court. Hajime had always noticed this grace in Tooru, and the confident way he carried himself, but now that Tooru stood in the robes and jewels of royalty it became more pronounced. More apparent that this was the role Tooru had been born for. Had been groomed for throughout most of his life.

Hajime suddenly felt very small and insignificant.

On the dais, Tooru slowly turned to face the crowd and sat in the throne. The Lord Chamberlain handed him the golden, sapphire-tipped scepter of the nation to hold in his left hand, and then the newly-crafted golden orb that resembled two intertwining dragons to hold with his right hand, while the Lord Chancellor lifted the circlet from Tooru’s head. He replaced this circlet with the jewel encrusted crown, which settled onto Tooru’s head as if it was always meant to be there.

“Tooru,” the Lord Chancellor said as he placed the crown on Tooru’s head, “will you solemnly promise to govern the people of this Kingdom according to the statutes and laws agreed upon by the monarchy and the judicial courts of the nation?”

“I will,” Tooru answered without any hint of hesitation or nervousness.

“Will you promise to execute both justice and mercy in all your judgments regarding the people under your rule?”

“I will.”

“And will you to your utmost power protect the rights of the people and creatures under your rule to the overall good of the nation?”

“This I so swear to do.”

The Lord Chancellor smiled and stepped back on the dais, angling his body to face the crowd instead of Tooru. He swept his arm out in gesture to those gathered and declared, “You have willingly offered these oaths before these people. May all those gathered here bear witness to your promise and to the investiture of power to you as King. Rule with wisdom and mercy for all the days to come. Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!” Hajime echoed with the rest of the crowd.

He felt a fierce pride flare to life inside him at seeing Tooru on the throne, wearing the crown as he’d so long ago set out to do. Tooru held his head high. His entire body filled the ornate throne, physically claiming the spot as his and making it clear he wouldn’t be moved. He looked imperious and powerful and brilliant. As brilliant as the sun in the sky on a clear day, shining radiance down onto the earth below.

He’d finally reached his goal, reached the end of the journey he’d asked Hajime to guide him on all those months ago. Now was the start of a new journey for him. But this one Hajime couldn’t join him on. And now it was time for Hajime to head back to the mountains. Time for him to say goodbye to this beautiful, brilliant man Hajime loved so much, and attempt to move on.

 

* * *

 

He left the castle at dusk, when Tooru would still be busy with meetings and discussions, but still close enough to the end of his day’s duties that he would find the letter Hajime left for him in their shared room before anyone else had a chance to. Hajime didn’t dare wait to say goodbye to Tooru in person. It would be too much for him. Too emotional. Hajime wouldn’t be able to follow through and actually leave if faced with Tooru. And he knew he needed to leave.

It was fine this way. Tooru would probably be livid with him for leaving so suddenly and silently, and probably more than a little upset that Hajime was leaving at all, but eventually he would understand. He’d move on and find someone else to stand by his side. Someone who actually understood the intricacies of the court, and could provide him with an heir. Tooru would make a wonderful father. Any child he raised was sure to follow in his footsteps as a magnificent ruler. Hajime was only sad he wouldn’t be there to witness it. But it was better this way. It was fine.

He snuck out of the side castle entrance, into the field where the dragons were being kept while stables and supply sheds were being built for them. Thehtayan was sleeping at the edge of the field, taking the farthest position from the castle as if acting as protector to all the younger dragons that still remained in the Capital. Hajime didn’t see Yanwehn anywhere, but maybe that was a good thing. The young dragon would quickly be able to figure out what Hajime was planning and would do everything in his power to stop it, for Tooru’s sake. Hajime didn’t want to deal with that. Convincing Thehtayan to leave would already be difficult enough.

“Thehtayan,” he murmured, coming up to his dragon. He stroked a hand over her head and scratched behind her ear until he saw her open one green eye. “ _Nahgetamahn. Dashamahn chimal_.”

Thehtayan lifted her head, but otherwise didn’t move. Just glared down at Hajime with suspicious eyes. A mixture of irritation and sorrow passed through their link, strong enough for Hajime to know exactly what she thought of his plans. Hajime closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

“ _Asihm, Thehtayan_ ,” he tried again. “ _Nunc chitalahn. Lochtazeh nunc ahni numehn._ ”

“ _Veh, zeh lochta_ ,” a familiar voice answered behind him. One Hajime really hadn’t wanted to hear right now.

Slowly, Hajime turned around and met Tooru’s sorrowful gaze. His _dami_ stood beside his dragon, one hand resting on Yanwehn’s back, surprisingly dressed in his dragon riding clothes rather than the court attire he’d been wearing for his official duties. Had Tooru found the letter earlier than Hajime thought? Or had Tooru been hiding behind the corner of the castle this whole time, already knowing what Hajime was planning to do?

Hajime didn’t bother greeting Tooru, or offering any sort of excuses. “I have to go,” he said instead. “This isn’t my world, Tooru. This isn’t my home.”

“You want to return to the mountains,” Tooru guessed, his frown growing more pronounced when Hajime nodded in answer. “What about me, Hajime? What about us? _Ahn viht yohn dami. Nunc chimalyoht sanmec sahilyoht au ahn_.”

“It’s better this way.”

“How?” Tooru demanded. “How is it better?” Swallowing heavily, Hajime turned away and looked at the horizon, where silhouettes of the Capital’s buildings and houses stretched for miles beneath the fading light of the setting sun. That was the sort of world Hajime belonged to. Not here in this castle with all of its finery and rituals. Not with this brilliant man who crossed the field to cup Hajime’s cheeks and turn his face back toward Tooru’s desperate eyes. “Just _talk_ to me, Hajime. Please. Don’t cut me off like this.”

Little valleys formed between his eyes as his brows furrowed in frustration. His hair was wild, swept into complete disarray by the wind, and the gleam in Tooru’s eyes was even wilder. He was beautiful. Radiant and messy and everything Hajime could want. But still so out of his reach.

“You’re king now,” he told Tooru in a soft voice. He swallowed thickly and placed his hands over Tooru’s, holding them against his cheeks as his own heart started cracking under the weight of his longing. “You have duties. And expectations. And I don’t fit into that. I can’t give you what you need.”

Tooru shook his head. “You don’t get to make that decision. How could you possibly know what I need?”

“Tooru,” he tried protesting again, but Tooru wouldn’t hear any of it. He shook his head and withdrew his hands from Hajime’s cheeks. A painful ache filled Hajime’s heart at the absence, and it took all of his willpower not to reach out and grab hold of Tooru’s hands himself. It wasn’t his right to anymore. He was leaving; there was no point in wishing for something he could no longer have.

Tooru turned his back on Hajime for a moment. He seemed to be steeling himself for some sort of decision, which almost frightened Hajime. He was wary of whatever Tooru was about to do or say. Wasn’t sure he wanted to experience it. Then Tooru turned around with new determination in his expression and Hajime wasn’t given the chance to protest. He could only watch as Tooru took the dragon’s egg pendant he always wore from his neck and hold it out to Hajime.

“This pendant is my heart and soul,” Tooru said as he pressed the necklace into Hajime’s hand. “It belongs to you and no one else. No matter what else happens.”

“Tooru—”

“I am stepping down from the throne.” Shocked, Hajime fell silent. He looked up from his hand to Tooru’s face, seeing a sad smile stretch across his lips. “It won’t happen now, or even within the next year or two. There is too much left to decide and set into motion before I can leave. But eventually I will abdicate and a new government will take my place.”

Hajime didn’t know what to say to that. After everything Tooru had been through, Hajime never thought he would willingly give up the prize he’d sought for so long. He never even dared to consider that possibility, because the thought of Tooru not being king was like Hajime not being a dragon rider. It went against their very nature. He still couldn’t believe it was true. All he could mutter in response was a weak, “Are you sure?”

Tooru laughed softly. “I too want to return to the mountains, _dami_ ,” he said. “I’ve changed too much to be happy here.” He closed Hajime’s fingers over the pendant in his palm, then raised the hand up to kiss Hajime’s knuckles. “Will you wait for me?”

“Forever,” Hajime swore, because what else could he say? How else could he respond when his entire being belonged to this man? “I’ll wait however long it takes.”

He held the pendant in his hand close to his chest and kissed Tooru, feeling Tooru’s lips smile against his own. And, for the first time in a long while, he felt hope bloom in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Hajime left at dawn the next day, this time carrying Tooru’s pendant and permission along with him.

It gave Tooru a certain pleasure to see the necklace that had come to define him hanging proudly from Hajime’s neck. Especially as he himself now wore Hajime’s blue pendant in place of his own— more precious to Tooru than any gem in the castle treasury. He twisted it between his fingers, memorizing the feel of it against his skin, and smiled.

“You have everything you need, right?” he asked, knowing that Hajime did but needing to hear confirmation one more time. The flight to the village wouldn’t take more than a day or two now that Thehtayan could fly out in broad daylight, but the return trip would take far more time. The village elders were too old to fly dragons anymore, and so would need to travel the kingdom by horseback.

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Yes, _dami_. I do,” he assured once again. “I have more than enough.”

Tooru glanced again at the bulging saddle bags that hung down Thehtayan’s sides and thought perhaps that was true, thought part of him wanted to insist on Hajime checking just one more time. Tooru simply hated being parted from Hajime. He wanted to take every opportunity to delay Hajime’s departure for as long as possible. To keep Hajime by his side for as long as he could. To keep him right where he belonged.

Hajime was Tooru’s home. That was what Tooru had decided once his battle had been won and his journey had come to an end. Wherever Hajime went, Tooru would follow as best he could. But not this time. Not yet. Tooru needed to wait and be patient and tie up every loose end before he could fly off with Hajime and spend the rest of his life in peace. He just needed to be patient a little while longer.

The waiting was the most difficult part.

Smiling, Hajime reached out with both hands to cup Tooru’s cheeks. The leather of his gloves was warm against Tooru’s skin. Just as warm as the fond kiss Hajime pressed to Tooru’s forehead. “I will return to you,” Hajime said, leaning back a bit to look into Tooru’s eyes. “I swear it.”

“I know,” Tooru answered. “I’ll be waiting anxiously for your return.” He bent to kiss Hajime’s cheek, lips lingering just slightly longer than usual against Hajime’s skin before he whispered, “ _Ahn damilayoht._ ”

Hajime smiled. He gently bumped their foreheads together and carded his fingers through Tooru’s thick, messy hair. “ _Veh_ ,” he agreed, just as he had the night before the battle. “ _Ahn sol damilayoht. Vihtal._ ”

And that was all Tooru needed in order to finally let Hajime go for the time being. Hajime lingered only a second longer by Tooru’s side, looking a bit conflicted for a moment before turning on his heel and walking over to Thehtayan. Once he was settled in his dragon’s saddle, Tooru wrapped a hand around Hajime’s ankle and waited to have Hajime’s full attention once more. He didn’t need to wait very long, as Hajime’s hazel eyes settled on him almost immediately at the touch.

“ _Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol,_ ” he said to Hajime.

“ _Bretalli, dami_ ,” Hajime replied.

His fingers ghosted over the back of Tooru’s hand for just a second, sending pleasant waves of warmth down Tooru’s arm, and then he picked up Thehtayan’s reins. Tooru released Hajime’s ankles and took a step back, watching Thehtayan spread her wings and take off into the sky. He watched Hajime and Thehtayan push higher and further, until they were nothing more than a black dot on the horizon, and then continued watching as they disappeared completely.

Loneliness crept in and settled in his chest with Hajime’s absence, but Tooru knew it wouldn’t last for long. Hajime would return to him. He would return time and time again, no matter where he went, bringing warmth and security and love back with him. And one day soon, Tooru would be able to go with him. To stay with him. To build a life with him in the mountains they both called home.

 _Did I make the right decision_ , he had asked himself over and over again in the weeks leading to his coronation. Looking to the east now, toward the distant mountains highlighted by the new light of the rising sun, Tooru thought he finally had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! Thank you guys so, so much for sticking with me through all of this and offering so much support! Seeing all the wonderful comments and tags and all of that was always the highlight of my day! You guys have been amazing, and I hope you all enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I'll be working now on finishing the last half of my iwaoi astronaut au, Space, and then seeing where I go from there. If you want to chat you can find my on twitter/tumblr under the username EclecticInkling! And tag me if you make any art/playlists/edits/etc! I'd love to see anything you guys happen to create!
> 
> Thank you all again for your support!
> 
> Translations:  
> Ahn viht chiloh, dami. Sahilyoht au ahn.  
> I’m here, beloved. Talk to me.
> 
> Nahgetamahn. Dashamahn chimal.  
> Let us fly. I need to leave.
> 
> Asihm, Thehtayan. Nunc chitalahn. Lochtazeh nunc ahni numehn.  
> Please, Thehtayan. I can’t stay. This isn’t my place.
> 
> Veh, zeh lochta  
> Yes, it is.
> 
> Ahn viht yohn dami. Nunc chimalyoht sanmec sahilyoht au ahn.  
> I am your beloved. You can’t leave without talking to me.
> 
> Ahn damilayoht.  
> I love you.
> 
> Veh. Ahn sol damilayoht. Vihtal.  
> Yes. I love you too. Always.
> 
> Vihyle nahgeta veeyohnsol.  
> May your flight be blessed.
> 
> Bretalli, dami,  
> Be safe, beloved


End file.
